The Revelations of an Innocent Mind
by Blooming on a Snow
Summary: Edward, aka Masen, is a hired killer feared even by the authorities. Bella, orphaned, novice nun, was raised in the Cathedral as a devote catholic. One chance encounter would change the way they view the world, and themselves, as a whole. "I stared, breathlessly, as he pulled the trigger." A tug of war, and heart, between the pure and the damned.
1. Chapter 1: The Path Less Taken

**12/11/14 A/N:**

Going over my previous A/N, there were some things I've written there that no longer applies, so I'm revising it.

This story is basically about two people, Bella, the novice nun, and Edward, the hitman, who met and changed each other's lives. The idea of Bella here being a novice nun in secret was actually loosely based from my friend in college. One time, when I was having a crisis about my faith, she revealed to me that she is actually a novice nun out on a mission. It shocked the bejesus out of me. She then asked me to keep it a secret, and then helped me with my dilemma. So when I was writing about Bella's character and conceptualizing her, I remembered my friend (who actually wears a little bit of make-up!) and put little pieces of her into my Bella.

I wanted to write something about two extremely opposite people, and wanted to kind of question the line between "good" and "bad", and how they aren't absolute - that there's a grey line there (if that makes sense).

Lastly, I don't expect reviews (I genuinely just wanted to share this story to you) but I appreciate them - like A LOT. They usually make my day, and inspires me to continue writing.

Enjoy, and thank you for your time!

**09-28-14 - Important Update**

Currently changing the title: "I'm in Love with a Murderer" to "The Revelations of an Innocent Mind". Hope there will be no confusions. Thanks!

* * *

><p><strong>The Revelations of an Innocent Mind<strong>

**SUMMARY**

Edward, aka Masen, is a hired killer feared even by the authorities. Bella, orphaned, novice nun, was raised in the Cathedral as a devote catholic. One chance encounter would change the way they view the world, and themselves, as a whole. "I stared, breathlessly, as he pulled the trigger." A tug of war, and heart, between the pure and the damned.

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><p><strong>PREFACE<strong>

There is something peculiar about the way Edward Cullen looks at me. I couldn't put a name on it but it is as if his eyes, cold-stoned emeralds, has seen just too much and yet too little. I fascinate him - that much I could claim. Just the way he acts around me makes me realize that for him, I am a refreshing change.

With deep concentration, and registering an internal struggle through his eyes, he aimed the gun in my direction.

I wanted to help him, like how I've always dreamed of helping others. Like I've always prayed to God.

But... how?

There's only one way to find out... if this wouldn't kill me.

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 1: THE PATH LESS TAKEN<strong>

I walked into the roomful of children, orphaned like me, and sat at the center of their make-shift stage. My delighted eyes scanned the innocent faces, and like I always feel around people who are the same in experience with me, I saw angels with broken wings, struggling to rise up and carry the burden placed upon their feeble shoulders. My heart instantaneously broke, but I smiled and carried on with our activity.

"Last week, Cathy was fortunate enough to find a new family. God really is great and may He bless their newly formed family. Let us say a little prayer."

I bowed and was copied by all children. I did the sign of the cross and spoke clearly, "Lord God, thank you for the blessing You have given Cathy last week. It will be a new start for her, and we all pray that You will guide her and bless her like we know You would. You have sacrificed Your only son just to save us all. That is how much You love us, and that is why Your son Jesus carried the cross so that none of us would ever do it again.

"Father God, today, twenty-four more children are carrying the cross in their little shoulders. We all pray that You may bestow upon them again Your eternal love and let them settle with families that will love them, like You did Cathy. But we know, in Your perfect plan and perfect time, You will do just that.

"Thank You Lord for everything.

"In Jesus' name, we pray..."

"Amen," chorused by everyone. I did the sign of the cross again, and so did the children.

"All right, now, this activity is much like the others. I know Sister Angela has taught you this morning the story of Noah and his ark. I want you to pair in groups of three and discuss what your favorite part of the story was, and how you interpret it."

Groups soon began forming, and not too far away I saw Lindsay, the latest addition to the group, pouting about the way she was not being asked. I walked towards her, and kneeling, smiled at her.

"What's the matter sweetie? Can't find your group yet?"

She didn't speak. I understood instantly that she hadn't gone past her isolation yet, unable to grasp the idea of the other children smiling about whilst she wallow in sorrow on her parents' passing. This is the hardest part of being recently orphaned - being unable to reconnect with people, only living inside their heads, and never forgiving themselves for remaining alive while their parents suffered death. Everyone's cases are different, but usually it all boils down to pain, and then hatred, and would turn to self-blame if not properly dealt with.

I scanned around the children for an incomplete group.

"You see Sarah and Carla over there?" I pointed the two girls that were already discussing their task, not bothering to complete their group. "They need another group-mate, so I suggest, you go to them and ask them if Noah's son Hem had his own family."

Curling her brows she asked "Hem?"

"Yes, Hem. He is alone at first, you see. The girl he was supposed to marry died right before his eyes."

She gasped. "Sister Angela didn't say that."

"Well, then, aren't you curious to know?"

She bit her lip in contemplation. I waited with a smile for her to answer, until she finally voiced her true concern.

"What if they don't like me?"

"Well then, you can always group with me." Her eyes grew just a fraction - the idea appealing to her. "But only, if they say 'no'," I added.

Still struggling, she went to sit, hugging her legs. I knew at that instant that her pain is deeper than a mere curiosity can cure. And I knew that I needed to do something about it.

"I'll let you in on a little secret." A bit curious, she looked up to my face. "I almost burned the whole church."

Her look of shock made me chuckle.

"The first time I got here," I continued "I thought everyone was scary. I avoided them on purpose. One time, I accidentally lit a blanket on fire and the smoke enveloped our room, alerting all the superiors. When the fire was put out, they asked who lit the blanket. I couldn't answer - afraid I would be thrown out to the streets again. And guess what happened?"

"What?"

"Sister Angela told everyone she did it."

She gasped.

"What happened to her?"

"She got punished because of it. She was forbidden to go out our quarters for three days."

"But why did she do it?"

"Well, later that afternoon, I came to her and asked her why she told everyone she did it, and confessed I was the one at fault. Do you know what she said?"

"What?"

"She told me, in her exact words, 'Now you talk. If I didn't do it I'm afraid your saliva will rot by not talking to anyone.'"

Her lips twitched to a small smile - a big step from her somber expression.

"Because of that, we became the best of friends. You don't want to burn a blanket and have someone punished first before you gain friends, don't you?"

She shook her head in a "no."

"Well then, those new friends are waiting." I gestured with my head towards the two girls. It took Lindsay a moment before finally deciding to stand up and face her fears. My heart melted just by her simple show of strength.

With new found determination, she walked purposefully to the two girls. Upon reaching them, she spouted quietly but clearly what I told her to ask. The two girls took a moment to digest what she has just said before Sarah, the girl on the left, scooted closer to Carla and seemed to ask Lindsay to group with them.

Lindsay's shy smile reveals her being touched by the offer. It, in turn, made me smile.

The activity ended without much episode - only Greg and John almost fighting over why snakes were let inside the ark - and the children all returned to their quarters with new learning about God's divine wrath, how people were punished because of it, and with Lindsay finally connecting to two more people.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

Jolted, I turned towards Mother Emilia and her knowing smile. It was after two in the afternoon. I was seated on the bench of the Cathedral's garden, all my musings focused on the earlier events, as the wind dances around the flowers and the leaves. Mother Emilia took a seat beside me.

"Mother Superior, I'm just... There's just something I don't understand."

"Pray tell."

I bit my lip. "I know life isn't fair, and God made it so, and suffering was created to bring compassion, and that all makes sense. But what I don't understand is why suffering always happens to innocent people. What is their sin?"

Her fond smile grew. "Ah, I see. Then, I am guessing since you've been thinking about this so much, you have already formulated some answers in your head?"

"Guesses, mother, not answers. I just think God tests people more if after all their suffering, they would still be loyal to him, like Job."

The kind Mother clasped both my hands.

"Only after death do we get judged. Everyone gets tested, not only a select few."

"Well then, why punish them?"

"You said 'guesses'. Another guess, perhaps?"

I bit my lip in hesitation. "It's just... it's ridiculous."

"I'll be the judge of it."

I exhaled. "Well, I just think God sometimes feels lonely up there and so he makes us do things to entertain his self."

The moment I was finished, a chuckle broke from the mother's lips. I blushed at the ridiculousness of my answer.

"No one can really prove that so I guess your hunch is still safe."

"I'm sorry mother." My blush is deepening in shade by the second.

"To answer your question, I think, Isabella, that God creates suffering to strengthen us, not to punish us. He never punishes. He only makes us realize what things are important and to always cherish them so that one day, we are stronger, able to fight any storms, because we know what to fight for."

I shook my head.

"I have much to learn."

"Much. But in time, you will have answers to your questions - concrete ones - and you won't need others' explanations anymore."

"When is that going to happen, mother?"

"Maybe next week?"

Confused, I asked. "What do you mean?"

She handed me a letter. I immediately tore it open to see what it says. I wasn't even at the half of the content before Mother Superior explained to me what it says.

"That letter is from our Bishop Ben Cheney. The time has come for you to go out and change the world. You know how this works."

Not believing my ears, I uttered the explanation that has been explained to me over and over when I decided I would train to be a nun. "I'll be out there for months - could be years, depending upon your instructions - and do the mission you want me to carry on until you feel I had enough experience to come back."

She nodded solemnly. "And that always depends if after going out there, you still would want to come back."

This brings me mixed emotions. On one hand, I am thrilled - giddy, even - to finally reach this stage. I have always wanted to help people and change lives as much as I could.

On the other, I am terrified. I don't have much knowledge of how the world works. What if I couldn't last a week? What if I meet dangerous people? And scarier than ever, what if, after all that I have served and stayed at the church, I really am not fit to be a nun?

The answers lie on my hands.

"I'll leave you to your thoughts now. I know that this is too much to digest, but I hope I'll have an answer tomorrow morning. Always remember, if you think you're not yet ready for this test, you can always tell us and we'll postpone your travel." And possibly leave doubt on my capability to be a nun.

"Where am I assigned?"

"In New York."

With that, she left me alone with more questions than before.

I've always lived my church life in the small town of Forks, Washington. Since the day Mother Superior found me lurking in the streets of Seattle on her trip there, with my sad state of grease and dirt, and asking alms for my growling stomach eighteen years ago, I've never known what happens on the real world anymore. I know that the world is truly cruel even then to a five-year-old child like me, but still, I was a kid and didn't know much. Now, society views me already as an adult. I am in more danger than when I was a beggar.

But still, this is the path I've always known. This has always been how I imagined myself being - a nun, touching lives and serving people like what Mother Superior and Angela do. And my bus ticket to this challenging journey lies literally now on my palms.

So as I thought about these at night, I found out I already know where I'll find myself next week. I just hope New York is as splendid as the song I once heard suggests.


	2. Chapter 2: Different Faces of Humanity

**09-28-14 - Important Update**

Currently changing the title: "I'm in Love with a Murderer" to "The Revelations of an Innocent Mind". Hope there will be no confusions. Thanks!

* * *

><p><strong>The Revelations of an Innocent Mind<strong>

**CHAPTER 2: DIFFERENT FACES OF HUMANITY**

A cab directly behind us buzzed loudly, making the taxi driver of my hired cab jolt as he stepped on the gas, shooting us forward to the convoluted traffic. I registered briefly the green traffic light counting to four.

Hello New York.

Being used to normal human population of Forks, I couldn't stop craning my head to watch the throngs of people walking by the sidewalk. People of all walks of life, boldly showcasing their distinctiveness with the way they walk, and dress, and move… Forks people seemed to be just one boring person in comparison. And the buildings, all tall and intimidating, looked like they wanted to stand out from each other, each one seeming to gaze down at the hassle and bustle at their feet. I could also count more hotdog stands than I could the number of Forks' business franchises. I guess New Yorkers just love hotdogs.

Seeing all these, I wondered why the world got itself into a big hurry whilst I'm not looking. And now I need to catch up with it.

After about thirty minutes of traffic and travel, my hired cab finally skidded to a stop in front of tall rows of a dingy apartment building.

"That would be one-twenty, miss."

"O-one twenty?"

"This is an airport taxi, miss. I already gave it to you cheap."

I dug inside my shoulder bag for my purse and reluctantly pulled out one hundred and twenty bucks to hand to the driver. I suddenly wished I was still wearing my habit so I would be treated right, feeling that I was somehow taken advantage of.

As I got out, I immediately chastised my thoughts and asked God a quick prayer of forgiveness. But still, I'm now short of one-twenty which, back at the orphanage, could have helped the children buy more clothes than they usually can spend. Sighing, I took out my luggage of meager belongings from the cab's trunk to cart inside the building.

After I knocked at the door, a tall and petite old lady opened it for me. Though probably at age seventy, the landlady still looked quite strong.

"Bella Swan?" Her mouth seemed set for a permanent scowl with her all-glaring eyes.

I tried to smile as I answered. "Yes. You must be Mrs. Cope."

"_Miss_ Cope," she sneered. "Follow me."

I scanned the small receiving area situated not too far from the elevator doors. The place looked old but well-kept. It doesn't scream anything modern, different from all that I've seen from the city thus far, and for that I was thankful. I feel like the place wouldn't alienate me much from where I stay at Forks.

"Even though I'm your landlady, you can't always come to me for help when you want to. I can't fix your sink if it gets clogged with the junk you throw in it." She pressed the button on the elevator and didn't break her speech even when we got inside. "I can't find a stupid plumber to help you flash that God-damned toilet of yours." I cringed from her loose use of the Lord's name. She didn't even notice my reaction as she punched the seventh floor – the highest floor for the building. "If you want fancy things, move out of my building at once because I give it to you cheap as it is. You can find a lot of fancy things in New York but not a one thousand five hundred bucks fancy apartment. And if you miss even a day of rent, I'll kick you out before you could even say 'extension'. Any questions?"

She glared at me and I got the feeling her question was rhetorical. I shook my head.

"Good. I live down below and I collect your rent every fifteenth of the month. Here's your key."

She handed me my key right after we stepped out from the elevator to the seventh floor.

"You're at room 7C, down the hall." She pointed at the rightmost room.

"Thank you Miss Cope. May God Bless you."

She cleared her throat, unease with well-wishers.

"Yeah. Well, that's it."

As she came back to the elevator, I smiled at her. Her mouth frowned more and she seemed unable to look me in the eyes.

After the elevator doors closed between us, I went to pull my luggage and walk towards my room. As I entered the key to the doorknob, I noticed in my peripheral vision my neighbor on 7C about to enter his room as well. I turned to my left to greet him but just as fast, he was gone. I wondered if I was only seeing things. After all, I heard no noise.

I shrugged and finally clicked the doorknob open.

The next day, I settled to tour New York by foot. I went to see the infamous Statue of Liberty, marveled at the tall and pristine Empire State building, the nearby park, and passed by the stalls of different businesses, most of them selling clothes. It was one of the things we couldn't indulge at the church – the beautiful clothes. And so I was curious to know how I would look like in one.

I went inside one shop and was frowned upon by the sales lady.

"Is there anything I can help you, miss?"

"Yes. I was just wondering how much these dresses usually cost." I gestured to the beautifully displayed furs and coats and laces. I especially was fond of the pure white dress.

"Nothing you can afford." One of her brows rose.

"Oh, uhm, I see…" I was so embarrassed that I was sure my face was all shades of red.

"How much is the dress?"

I jumped at the person who spoke beside me. I turned to see a man about two or three years older than me. He wears a fancy-looking button-down shirt, and even fancier coat. His black shoes were polished to the tip.

"Oh, uhm, sir, I didn't know she was with you. It's for hundred thousand dollars."

Not believing my ears about the price, I whipped my head to said dress, trying to understand what made it so expensive. However, the stranger beside me only smiled and pulled out his wallet, showing the sales lady a card.

"See this?"

"A black card sir."

"Yes. And you know what that means?"

"Most definitely, sir. It means no credit limit."

"Yes, well, since I heard you spoke so harshly to my girlfriend here, I think you just lost a valued customer. Have a good day."

He placed an arm around me, smiled to the shocked sales lady, and heralded me towards the exit. I glanced at the sales lady to see her flushing hard.

Once outside, he removed his embrace of me.

"Thank you sir. That was really kind of you to do, but you don't need to embarrass her like that. She was right, after all. I really can't afford the dress." I couldn't even begin to imagine how guilty I'd feel wearing a hundred thousand dollar dress while a lot from the Third World country suffers from famine, much less find a hundred thousand dollars. In my short stay, my opinion of New York already gears towards all things overpriced.

"Still, that doesn't entitle her to be bitchy towards you. I assume you're new here?"

"Yes. I'm from Forks, originally."

"What place?" He doesn't seem to register the place.

"Forks. Washington. I was…" I was about to say a novice nun, but remembering that I should keep my real status as secret while I'm here, I immediately deterred my words. "I was only looking at new clothes."

He clicked his tongue twice. "You have to be more careful around here. There are a lot of people who will deceive you if you aren't, and more people who would do you harm. The city life is very different, especially here in New York."

"I noticed."

He briefly looked at his wrist watch. "Well, I have to get going. I have a meeting in less than half an hour."

I smiled at his kindness. "Thank you, Mister…?"

"Jacob Black. You are?"

"Bella. Bella Swan."

He pulled out something from his coat pocket and this time, it looked like a different kind of card. "Well, Bella-Bella Swan, here's my card if you need any help touring the city. This here," he pointed at the upper number, "is my office number, but below, and what the others usually ignore, is my private number. Just call this second here, alright?"

He handed his card to me as I said my "thanks."

"Now, you're welcome. I'll see you – or hear from you – soon."

He flashed me a bright smile with his all white, perfect teeth.

"Yes. Bye."

He nodded infinitesimally before walking a few steps towards his waiting car. His driver opened his door for him, and then went inside the driver's seat to maneuver the car.

Once gone, I looked down at his card at my hands to read:

_Mr. Jacob Black_

_CEO – Black Enterprises, Inc._

In my three weeks stay, I still couldn't claim that I know New York. Everything is baffling; a lot of things are simple but complicated. I once went to a public ladies room and felt all sorts of stupid when I jumped at the automatic flush. I felt even dumber when I couldn't wash my hands on the faucet, and then another woman went to the next faucet and simply placed her hands below it, and then the water gushed out. Even the trash bin's mouth automatically opens.

It's like the machines try to cater to the people's fast pace.

The only consolation I have from feeling out of place is my discovery of a small church not too far from my apartment's location. I already met with the kind priest, father Banner. Thus far, he, and only the man I briefly met on my second day, Mr. Black, seemed to wear the kind expressions on their faces. Father Banner welcomed me to his church, delighted to learn that I am a novice nun out on a mission. He wished me well on my journey, and I was glad that I could do my confessions at St. John's cathedral every week. There is always something sacred and uplifting in having to bare my confession weekly, and having a church nearby to pray when I needed to. Just being inside Cathedrals makes me feel that I'm closer to God than anywhere else.

After almost a month in my stay in New York, I got a call from Mother Superior, telling me to proceed with my mission. There are a lot of spiritual needs for people from prison and a priest conducts ceremonies and bible studies during Sundays. But since most of the prisoners in the station I will be assigned to have life sentence crimes, they need things to do during their stay. And so, I am to see, together with the proclaimed nuns, voluntary works where these prisoners would help in the community. Not that I am to truly head the programs – since that responsibility is bigger than what I am capable of yet – but I will assist Mother Elizabeth, and her congregation, with everything she needs me of. These activities, from planning to the last detail, would consume my Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays.

To help pay my rent and bills, I asked Mother Superior to give me permission to work during Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays, since I am free those days. Though she didn't approve at first – saying I have no need to do so since all my expenses are to be paid by the church – I explained to her that the money for my expenses should instead be given to our church, impressing to her the scarcity of our funds in running our orphanage. Seeing my point, she reluctantly agreed but told me the church will still give at least half of what I should originally receive each month. I didn't have any other choice but to agree, secretly planning to save the money so that when I return, they would still be given to our church. I asked God a simple prayer of forgiveness for my white lie. It didn't make me feel guilty that much since I know my intensions are good.

The next day, I applied as a crew at a café called Starbucks. Since they need immediate hiring, they accepted me right away, and even made do for my three-days-a-week work. I thanked God for giving me so much blessing, and planned to give as offertory whatever will remain of my first earning to St. John's on Sunday.

To prepare myself for my hectic schedule for the next days, I cleaned my apartment thoroughly, polishing and sweeping all the dirt that I could. Next, I did my laundry, not knowing when I'd be able to do it again. Finally, I made myself a week's worth of food to bring to work so that I wouldn't have to buy outside and spend unnecessarily. It was with great joy when I finally was able to take a bath at almost eight in the evening to relax my tired muscles. And since my apartment is cheap, as quoted by the landlady, and have all the dysfunction, I have had to boil tap water in the kettle to mix with my small bath tub because my water heater runs out during the evening. Not to mention the sink or the creaking bed… But still, I thanked God that I have a roof on my head while the other children have had to endure the cold air at night.

I was about to pray before eating my meal when I heard my neighbor's door opening. Since the first day that I thought I saw him outside my apartment, I've never once met him, much less hear any noise from the next door. I've always thought that what I saw that day was just a product of my imagination.

Planning to invite him over for supper, I went out of my apartment to walk towards his door. The two other rooms on the building's seventh floor were both vacant, and so he is the only neighbor I have.

Once I got to his door, I knocked twice. I got no answer save for silence.

I knocked again, this time calling out "Hello? Anybody here?"

I still didn't receive an answer so I spoke again. "I'm Bella. I'm your neighbor, and I'm just wondering if you want supper." Feeling silly for offering him boldly without even meeting him yet, I added "I'm just-I've never met you before, and I just want to know you a little… Hello?"

Still, no answer from him. Resolving that I probably am just imagining things again, I turned to leave. But then, I heard a groan from inside his room. It was quiet, but I couldn't be mistaken that it was a groan of pain.

"Hello? Are you alright?"

I heard another groan, so I decided to try to open his door. It didn't surprise me that much that the door isn't locked.

I hurried inside his room and was greeted by darkness. Fumbling for the switch, I heard another cry from him. This time, it was a cry for help.

"Wait, I'm just looking for your switch."

When I finally punched the switch to 'on', I turned towards him. It didn't surprise me to find my neighbor in such a state – his plea of help indicated as much – but what did surprise me is his face, for never in my life have I seen a most good-looking creation God ever made before.

He cried out in another agony, but this time, he was able to speak clearly.

"Help me, B-Bella."

And then he passed out.

* * *

><p><strong>DISCLAIMER:<strong> I've never been to New York. Educate me.

Twilight is Stephanie Meyer's, but you already know that.

Also, I based one line there from Shawshank Redemption's Brookes' line: "The world got itself into a big damn hurry," minus the cursing.

Lastly, I don't think I'll write from anyone's POV aside from Bella's for now. I'm not really sure if I'll change it anytime soon.

Thank you for your time.


	3. Chapter 3: The Good Samaritan

**09-28-14 - Important Update**

Currently changing the title: "I'm in Love with a Murderer" to "The Revelations of an Innocent Mind". Hope there will be no confusions. Thanks!

**The Revelations of an Innocent Mind**

**CHAPTER 3: THE GOOD SAMARITAN**

"Help me, B-Bella."

I was astonished that in his bemused state of mind, he could still remember the name I called out from his door. A bead of sweat was permeating his skin, his mouth was scowling from pain, and between his closed eyes was a pucker from the pain he was suffering from. But still, these circumstances were not able to hide how striking his face was.

I was finally alerted when another groan escaped from his lips. And as I took a hasty step towards him, I briefly panicked when he passed out.

"Oh my, Mister, wake up!"

I stumbled forward towards his body lying on the floor. He was clutching his chest tightly, but I could still see and smell the blood continuously gushing from his wound.

Knowing that any second I waste would be fatal for his life, I immediately searched the room for a phone. Once I got a hold of it in his night-stand, I quickly dialled 9-1-1, my fingers shaking a little from what I've just witnessed._ Calm down, Bella. This man's life depends on you, _I internally chanted just as the standard question from a female agent greeted me.

_"9-1-1. State your emergency."_

"Hi. This is Bella. My neighbor is bleeding all over his chest. I think he got stabbed or something. He just passed out."

_"Where are you located, Bella?"_

"I'm in Manhattan, New York. My apartment's address is…"

"No…" I suddenly heard my neighbor groaned. It seemed like he gained consciousness.

"Hold on," I told the agent, and then covered the receiver of the phone. "I'm just calling 9-1-1 right now. Stay conscious. I'll bring you to the hospital in no time." My neighbor groaned again, and with a weak voice pleaded "No hosp-i-tal…"

"But you're bleeding! You need to go to the hospital."

I settled to put the phone into my ears again when the man stretched his arms to try to take the phone away. It looked like he was using all his strength just to stop me, but with his physical state, he could not reach even a few inches near me.

"Mister, if you won't go to the hospital, how will I be able to help you?"

He looked me right in the eyes – his were unsteady from his state – and were revealed to me a shocking green.

"Get-t o-out."

I vehemently shook my head.

"I won't leave you. You need me. You need help."

"N-no h-hospi-tal…"

I saw that if I truly wanted to help this man, I could do nothing but to heed his request, or else he wouldn't let me. Gritting my teeth in frustration, I hang up the phone.

"Alright. No hospitals. But you listen to me very well," I started in a commanding voice. His closed eyes opened a small gap to look at me. "You wouldn't die on me, you understand? You wouldn't die on me. You wouldn't pass out. Do something, bite your tongue if you should, but you wouldn't pass out. I'll just get my medical kit. I'll come back."

He nodded infinitesimally before I rushed out to go back to my room. Once there, I hurriedly searched for my medical kit in my chest drawer, and immediately came back to his room. The moment I entered his apartment, his eyes followed me.

I knew I needed to do something about his continuous bleeding, and so, grabbing his blanket – not having any other nearby piece of fabric to grab – I extricated his hold of his chest to press half of the blanket to his wound. He groaned in pain, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth.

"I need to get your bleeding under control. Once your wound stopped bleeding, we could assess how to clean your wound. Right now, do your best not to pass out on me, you understand?"

Again, he gave a short nod – his breathing jagged from the pain he's suffering. I figured I needed to distract him.

"What's your name?"

He didn't answer save for a groan. Pressing firmer on his chest, I tried to engage my agonized patient into any form of conversation so he wouldn't pass out again.

"Let me guess: Ronald?"

He shook his head a little. I was briefly relieved that he could at least understand me.

"You don't look like a Ronald either. Michael? David?"

He shook his head again. I couldn't help but to think the reason I chose the names David and Michael is because he looks a bit like Michael Angelo's statue of David situated on the convent I grew up in.

"Well then, Frank? Seth? Gerald? Raymond? John…?" I listed off ten more names but nothing even seems to remotely hit the mark.

"You really have a tricky name then." I pressed more on his chest – his blood soaking the blanket a lot. He groaned again, but his breathing seemed to at least even out.

"Let's see, Em… Edmund?" He grunted. "Is it Edmund?" He shook his head. "Close enough?" He nodded curtly. "Great! I'm close then. Let's see, grandpa names, Edmund… Ezekiel… Elijah… Ethan… Edward…" He exhaled loudly and nodded curtly. "Edward? Is it Edward?" I clarified. He nodded again. "Oh! Edward! Wonderful!

"Well, Edward, it's nice to meet you. I'm Bella. Isabella Marie Swan." His hazy eyes peaked a little to my face.

A minute or two passed before I decided the wound isn't bleeding as much. I sighed in relief.

I stood up then, and immediately, Edward opened his eyes again to look at me.

"I'll get a basin," I explained. "I need to clean the blood to see how deep your wound is. Stay awake," I demanded, hurrying to his sink. I filled up a pitcher – the only thing deep enough to fill in water that I found – and took the nearby wash-cloth. I approached him right away to lift his shirt up.

At first, he wouldn't remove his clutch on his chest, but after I said "now, Edward, do not be a baby. Let me clean that wound" to him, using a parental tone I hadn't used before, he finally let me take care of him.

I lifted his shirt, wiping his skin in the process. After the wound is clean enough, I assessed that it's deep but at least, small. I said a small prayer:

_"Lord God, please help this man to stay alive. I would do all in my power to save him, but it is always Your will to give and take away life. I pray, oh Lord, that it isn't his time yet…"_

"Wh-a-t are y-you d-doing…?"

I opened my eyes to Edward's sweaty face. He was looking at me with questioning eyes. I noticed that for the first time his eyes, though deep shades of melting emeralds, have a hardness in them – an edge to the way he looks at me – which I couldn't place.

"Praying," I explained, "So that you will stay alive. Have you never prayed?"

He looked up to the roof, away from me.

"I d-don't b-believe a-anymore..."

Instantaneously, I understood the type of man Edward is – an anguished soul, who's lost all trust and warmth to God. His physical wound is much different than his wound within. Inside, it's deeper.

I smiled kindly to him when he looked back at me. "Well then, I do. And if you wouldn't pray for yourself, I would pray for you. See how He gives us miracles? If I didn't come here when I heard your door opening, who knew what would have happened to you? You could have died. But I am here now, and I _won't let you die_," I stressed the words. He was looking at me with a mixture of wonder and scepticism. "And now, in just a few minutes, you could already talk. That is a miracle. You might have chosen not to believe, but I believe in Him. And because I do, I would not lose my belief in you to also accept Him, even if it would take you a long time to do so."

I continued to clean his wound for a few silent minutes after that, using only water so that the wound would be clean enough before I put any disinfectant. Just as I was about to stand up to change the water from his pitcher, he spoke again.

Looking up at him, I heard him whisper "But I lost all hope."

And the utter coldness on his eyes was unmistakable.

Hope could be both an enemy and a friend. In times of great peril, hope is the only thing that keeps a human sane. But then again, too much hope could crush a person if not met. And I rode with this hope in the next twelve hours since I met Edward.

Because of his feeble state, I settled to stay with him even after his protest. He did groan some words along the lines of "get out" and "I don't need you", but since he can't move, there is nothing he could do about me staying.

The hardest part of cleaning his injury is when I disinfected it. Knowing that I have nothing remotely close to what the doctors use to thoroughly clean the wound, and a chemical of some sort to assure its healing, I have had to settle for a bottle of liquor that I found in his liquor cabinet. The moment I gushed it to his wound, tremors shook his body from the pain he felt. I tried to stay strong for him but his cries of agony did get me. After I made sure that I washed the wound thoroughly, I settled to put hydrogen peroxide on it before I wrapped his whole chest with bandage, assisting him in the process to be a bit erect. I let him sleep after.

Once or twice, Edward woke up with seizures. I have had to calm him down with a warm soaked cloth. And the entire time he was asleep, I took his nearby couch to get a little rest myself, easily alerted by his every movement.

I did bring my supper in his room and fed him. At first, he wouldn't want to, but after I impressed to him that if he would so much as deny my request I would call the ambulance to bring him to the hospital, he relented. And from twelve to one, all I did was pray the entire rosary for him, knowing that even if I did my best, I could not be sure yet that he is safe because anytime soon, he could suffer fever from the wound's infection and get worse. And just as I feared, at around four in the morning, he was chilling from a hundred and four Fahrenheit fever.

I made him ingest antibiotic. I also constantly rubbed his whole body with cloth soaked from a mixture of warm water and alcohol, so that his temperature would stabilize, continuously chanting a prayer in my head.

At around eight in the morning, with both of us having little sleep, my prayers were finally answered with his temperature dropping to ninety-nine point sixty-eight Fahrenheit. I said a small prayer to thank God. When I opened my eyes, Edward was looking at me.

"You need to rest," I smiled. "Your temperature has stabilized. I'll be here the whole time, so, don't worry."

It took him a solid minute before he finally voiced out his question.

"Why?"

I understood immediately what he truly meant, and that is why I was helping him.

Smiling, I said, "Well, for one, I am a Christian, and good Christians help their neighbors, especially in times of great need. Also, I reckon anyone would do the same as I did if I was the one in such a state."

It took him a moment to digest what I've said before he answered.

"Not all."

"I don't believe that."

He shook his head. "I won't."

I, in turn, shook my head. "You would. I know that you would. You're just saying that now, but if you're faced with the same situation, you're response will almost be instinctual."

"What made you say that?"

I stared him right at his hard and doubtful eyes. Even in his current state, his beautiful face was not amiss to me.

"Because I know you're good," I say with conviction. Doubt flooded his eyes more.

He stared at me for a solid minute, neither of us breaking each other's gaze. Finally, he looked up to the ceiling to whisper, away from my stare, "You don't know me."

I couldn't say more after that, afraid that he would find me irritating if I impress unto him my solid belief of him being good. Because even if I see hardness in his eyes, I also can see his soul, indicated by a little tenderness here and there. And it made me certain that he is good.

I yawned – my tired state finally catching up to me.

"You should go back to your room."

I shook my head. "I'll just be brief. I need to make us a breakfast, and then I'll come back so that we both could eat. You still need assistance."

"I don't need any more of your help."

His words made me laugh.

"Tell that to yourself. See if even you can believe that."

I stood up then, yawning again. "I'll come back in about twenty minutes. And then you'll never get rid of me."

For a week, that is what I did. I helped him, fed him, and stayed at his room – in his couch – to sleep. Every movement, every groan from him, alerts me. He doesn't say much, and thinking that if I were also in such a state I wouldn't want any noise, I also hardly talk to him. He never once said 'thank you', and I didn't expect him to. I don't need it. My helping him is of my own will.

But there was one instance when he did.

The first time he needed to go to the toilet, he tried to sit without my help. I was chopping some onions then in his kitchen, figuring I can always be present for him if I cook there. I didn't notice him at first, but when he uttered an explicit curse, I was instantly on his side.

"What are you doing?" I asked in an alarmed voice.

He didn't answer me; only struggling to sit.

"You'll bleed if you continue to do that. Here, let me help you."

I placed his left arm around my shoulder, careful not to touch his wound. He hissed and gritted his teeth as I helped him stand.

"Where to?" I asked. He didn't answer, only gritting his teeth more. By then I realized he was probably embarrassed because I'm a woman and he can't tell me that he needs to go to the toilet.

"Alright. I think I know where. You don't need to tell me."

I helped him walk slowly towards the toilet. Once there, I waited outside its door as he helped himself, leaning on the walls. When I heard the flush of the toilet, I knew that he was finished. Not wanting to embarrass him further, I just waited outside, and once he was out, I assisted him back to his bed. After that, I went back to the kitchen to continue preparing our meal.

"Bella," I heard him say in a quiet voice. I walked swiftly towards him, thinking that there was something he needs me of again.

"Yes?"

He continuously gritted his teeth, seeming to find it hard to say what he wanted to. I waited patiently, thinking that whatever it is, it's probably something he was not accustomed to saying.

"Just… t-thank…" He stopped then, breathing heavily. I smiled.

"You don't need to thank me if you have trouble saying it. It's always the thought of you being thankful that counts." He looked at me then, for once the hardness in his eyes replaced with pure gratitude. I almost told him that thanking me through his eyes is more sincere than whatever words he might say to me, but decided against it. "You don't need to say anything that's hard for you. I won't even ask you how you got stabbed. Because though it made me very curious, I knew it's probably something you don't want to easily share to me – practically a stranger. You don't have to do or say anything to me. Just let me take care of you."

With that, I left him to go back to the kitchen. Probably five or ten minutes have passed before I heard him again.

"Thank you," he said in a more quiet voice. I stopped for a beat – my heart beating loudly and experiencing an emotion I have no name of but is close to melting – before I continued my work without any word and with a permanent smile on my face.

Edward could at least stand and walk without my help on Sunday. Because of that, I decided to finally check on his wound. Seeing that it's on its way to healing, I breathed a sigh of relief, and said my thanks to God.

"Edward, listen, tomorrow I have work. I'm working for a whole week until Saturday. I think you could be left alone for a few hours, seeing that you're healing fast. But don't forget to ingest your medicine every after-four hours, especially the pain killer, alright? I'll be back at seven in the evening. I'll still make your breakfast and I'll leave a good amount for your lunch, so you don't have to worry about your food. I'll also leave your medicines here," I gestured to his night stand "and a glass of water, so you would have easy access to them. Also, I'll be gone for an hour and a half later at three because I'll attend the mass at St. John's, but I'll come right back."

The only response that I got was his nod.

However, something was amiss in the way he stared at me. I tried to ignore the nagging feeling, but it was all I could think of while I was re-bandaging his chest. It didn't leave me even after hours.

At around four, after the mass, I made way for my confession. Once safely covered in the confines of the confessional, and with the holed window separating me from the priest, I started with the opening "Forgive me, father, for I have sinned. It has been a week since my confession."

"Tell me your sins," the priest retorted.

"I lied to my Mother Superior about the money they monthly send me. I told her that I would use them, but I am actually planning to save them so that when I get back to our orphanage, I could give it to them.

"I also got frustrated once with the traffic.

"Lastly, I am helping a neighbor in need even though he doesn't want me to."

"Lady," told the father, "the only sin I can hear from you is the lying you have committed to your Mother Superior. Aside from that, the two you've mentioned are just products of you being a human. I am not trying to condone lying, but hearing your intent behind it I think makes it acceptable to God. You are forgiven of your sins."

However, I was still unsetteled.

"Father, I need guidance on one thing," I retorted, not thoroughly comforted that I truly did not commit grave sins. There was still something heavy upon my shoulders, and this is one thing I truly wanted guidance from. "This man that I said I was helping, father, he was, I think, he was stabbed. And I'm helping him even though I don't know how he got his injury. Am I doing right not to ask him?"

"Lady, remember the parable about the good Samaritan?"

"Yes, father. It's about a man who was stripped off his clothes by the robbers, was beaten, and was inches away from death. A priest passed by but avoided him. So did the Levite. But a Samaritan helped him, poured oil and wine on his wound, carried him on his donkey, and even let him stay at an inn."

"And which of them was a neighbor to the man?"

"The Samaritan," I answered.

"Did he question the man why he was beaten to death?"

"No."

"Well, there's your answer." And only then did I finally felt relieved.

We said a prayer together after that, then the priest made me pray three Hail Marys, one Our Father, and one Glory Be.

As I went back to my apartment building, I felt much better and even a bit excited to see my patient, and so I directly walked towards his room. I didn't even knock: I just let myself in to his room. Once inside, I announced my arrival.

"Edward, I'm here. I brought you some food outside. I passed by this chicken store and thought a warm soup with chicken will do you good…" I began to happily say, but upon looking at his empty bed, I stopped on my tracks, confused. Thinking he's probably just inside the toilet, I went to sit at my couch.

However, as I sat on the couch, I noticed something on his nightstand. Upon focusing on it, I realized it was a piece of paper.

A cold feeling of dread enveloped my chest.

Quickly, I rose up to dispel the feeling, praying that I wasn't right. But upon lifting the paper, more dread filled me.

Because there I read in a hasty but still elegant script:

_"Bella,_

_I have to go. Believe me, I'm thankful for what you've done, but you don't really know who I am. And as a favor for saving me, I am doing you good by leaving._

_For your own sake, do not speak of me to anyone. Lie, if you should. This is to keep you safe._

_Burn this after, and any trace that you stayed in my room. This is not a request, but a command._

_Only you, out of the hundreds, have truly known my name."_

And I realized why he looked at me that way when I was re-bandaging him. It was Edward's way of saying goodbye.


	4. Chapter 4: The Shades of Fear

**09-28-14 - Important Update**

Currently changing the title: "I'm in Love with a Murderer" to "The Revelations of an Innocent Mind". Hope there will be no confusions. Thanks!

* * *

><p><strong>The Revelations of an Innocent Mind<strong>

**CHAPTER 4: THE SHADES OF FEAR**

All the events of the previous day came crushing back to me as the sun greeted me in the morning. I sat up from my bed to proceed with my day, feeling a gaping hole just right on my chest. For a moment, I contemplated dismissing Edward's departure as just something of my own mind's doing, expecting that any second I'll hear him groaning from another room. However, the letter safely tucked between my lamp-shade's foot and the night-stand where it was placed upon served as a proof that he was truly gone. And there was nothing that I could do about it.

I had a typical first day of work: I mixed orders of coffee, spilled an entire grande cup, and got scolded by my supervisor. It wasn't rolling well, to say the least. And the thought of my neighbor kept haunting me the entire shift.

I kept wondering how he is, where did he go, was he eating his meal three times a day, and what did he mean when he wrote he was doing me good by leaving. I kept seeing him in the faces of our customers, half-expecting him to suddenly show up in front of me. I once mistook a guy with reddish-brown hair as him. I was so distracted and on-the-edge the entire day that even I got frustrated about myself. My co-employee, Jessica, comforted me a little by saying that the first day of work is always the hardest, and will get better as the days progress. But still, I felt bad about doing so poorly.

Because of my bad first day, I set a goal to get better the next. I arrived the earliest the next morning and tried to memorize all the orders. I brought a notebook and a pen to write down all the flavors of the coffee, and vowed to myself that I will memorize the processes and ingredients, thinking that I have to have a routine with my day so that I would commit fewer errors. I tried to be as cheery as possible, greeting all the customers with a smile. And most of all, I tried put at the back of my mind all my worries about my former neighbor, hoping that I could get my head on my tasks.

At the end of my second day, my supervisor seemed at least satisfied with me. He even patted me on the back, telling me to keep my attitude up. And as he did this, I noticed Jessica furtively eyeing him as she wipes the table near the door. I settled to approach her.

"Something wrong?"

She was taken aback by my question, jumping a little on the process.

"Wh-what?"

"Why do you keep staring at Mr. Mike?"

She blushed a little, and looked down at the table she was cleaning, trying to avoid my eyes.

"What are you saying? I'm not staring at him."

"Come on, Jessica. I saw you. It was quite obvious, actually."

She looked at me then for three solid seconds. Then suddenly, she grabbed my arms, dragging me towards the ladies' room. I didn't even had a chance to protest.

Once there, she gripped both my arms, startling me with her impulsiveness.

"Promise me you won't tell anyone!"

Looking around the room, she eyed the ladies' room door, and then quickly closed it. She was instantly on my side after that.

"Bella, Mike is just _so_ hot."

"Alright?" I retorted, unsure what to react.

"I mean, have you seen the way he smiles with his dimples? I kind of am crushing on him. I kept waiting for him to ask me out, but he never does, and I never say anything because he probably doesn't like me like that, because he's our supervisor, but do you think I should say something?"

I blinked thrice, trying to grasp what she has just said with how fast she said it.

"Err, why not?"

She squealed. "What? Are you crazy? I can't tell him! I'm just a crew here."

Understanding her apprehensions, this made me question some things. Was it really this hard to say what's on your heart? Was it this frightening that even bold Jessica cannot easily say that she likes Mike?

"Jessica," I started, placing a calming hand on her shoulder, "I think you need to tell him how you feel. Would you rather never tell him, and then watch him go with another girl?"

She looked like she would cry. "But that would be super awkward if he doesn't like me back."

"How old are you again?"

"Twenty. Why?"

"Well then, I think you're old enough to be mature about this."

She stared at me for a long time, continuously blinking. And then, she suddenly hugged me as she squealed. I was more than surprised by her energy – I've never met someone as spastic as she was.

"I'll try, Bella. I hope he likes me back!"

And with that, she quickly ran outside, leaving me alone at the ladies' room, a bit confused on what has just happened.

When I went back to the shop, I saw Jessica talking to Mike inside his small office. A smile broke on my face. But then, just as I glanced outside the shop, a mop of tousled reddish brown hair caught my eye. I breathlessly stared. As a second passed, it was gone. Instinctually, I ran outside the café, thinking it was him. All my hopes gearing that it was Edward.

And then I bumped onto someone.

"Ooufgh," the man uttered as I knocked the air out of him. He steadied me by clutching onto my arms so that I wouldn't fall.

"I'm sorry, but I need to catch someone…" I hastily said, trying to look at a gap above his shoulder for my former neighbor.

"Bella?" The man said. Him telling my name made me finally look at him. And then a flick of recognition hit me.

"Mr. Black!" I gushed.

"What a coincidence! Bumping into you again…"

"It's really nice to see you again, but I need to catch up with someone."

With that, I extricated his hold of me.

I ran to cross the street, hoping to catch up Edward. I ran a few more blocks, trying to look everywhere for him. However, it seemed like he was nowhere in sight, and I could not even be sure that it was truly him that I saw. With all the frustrations and disappointments in my chest, I stopped running, bending forward, catching up my breath, and leaning my hands on my thighs.

Faraway, Mr. Black seemed to catch up with me. "Miss Swan!"

I waited for him to reach me as I steadied my breathing. Upon reaching me, he said "I assume you didn't catch that someone?"

I shook my head in a 'no', frowning. He scratched his head.

"Well, wow, what do I say? Long-time no see?"

I tried to smile, but even it seemed fake to me. He cleared his throat.

"So, uh, I was wondering why you didn't call."

"Oh." Taken aback, it took me few seconds to formulate a proper response. "Uhm, I didn't need help touring the city," I finally came up with.

He chuckled a bit.

"I gave you my number not just to help you tour the city, Miss Swan."

Confused, I asked "What do you mean?"

"Well, I was wondering if you want to go out or something. Maybe we could grab some drink later?"

Oh.

"I…"

"But clearly, my timing is off."

I instantly shook my head. "No, you don't understand Mr. Black. I-I don't drink."

A look of shock crossed his features.

"Never?"

I shook my head with a smile. "No."

"Oh. My bad." He seemed to be blushing a bit. "But you're at least of legal age, right?"

I chuckled. "I'm twenty-three."

"Great. Uhm, maybe next time… how about a dinner, you know? So that we could talk about… stuff."

It's as if I could almost hear what he was thinking. With the unsure look on his face, it was like he was mentally scolding himself.

"A dinner sounds great," I retorted to placate him. He immediately gave me a huge smile.

"Great! Well, it's a date then…" The second the words were out of his mouth, his expression changed to one of dread, seeming to have said something he didn't plan to. "That is, I mean, if you want it to be a date…" he tried to say differently.

I took both of his hands to calm him a bit. And somehow, it worked. He kept a steady gaze on our entwined hands as his features returned to normal.

"Mr. Black, what happened to you?" Looking at me with confusion, I clarified. "You were so confident when I first met you. What's wrong?"

With a solemn look, he replied "Sorry. I just thought I'd lose my chance with you if I didn't ask you right away. I'm just accustomed to getting what I want."

When he said those words, all the apprehensions, all his self-doubt, were gone. Instead, they were replaced with a confidence that were hard to miss on his eyes. And then I focused on his eyes – pitch black – looking at me with a certain kind of intensity. I understood quickly the graveness of what he just revealed to me. This is a man who can and _will_ get whatever he wants. There is a lot more to him than meets the eye.

"It's not hard to offer my friendship Mr. Black," I said, hoping that he will get what I was trying to convey.

"So, it's a friendship dinner then."

I nodded. "I don't date, so yes, it's a friendship dinner."

He nodded solemnly – breathing heavily as he does.

"Well, I can wait. I told you – I am accustomed to getting what I want."

I chuckled a bit, finding his response funny.

"You've just met me. You don't know if you really want to date me." _And more than that, I am training as a nun._

But then, he looked at me with so much intensity that my smile was immediately wiped out off my face. He turned my hands so that he was the one holding me, and somehow, the innocent gesture that I did earlier to calm him down suddenly turned into a tension-filled one.

"Miss Swan, you clearly don't understand. I might have stammered on my words earlier, I might have seemed stupid, but you see, I have a gift – an eye, if you must – for things that I like. Things that I want. And when I settle my eyes on one, I would do all that it takes to get my hands on it, whatever it takes. I knew the moment I met you, I wanted you. And I would stop at nothing to have you."

His look, where before carefree, suddenly turned electric, possessive, domineering. It made my heart beat loudly, as if trying to warn me about him. I didn't know where the stammering and funny man went, but I knew that it wasn't him anymore. This is a different side of Mr. Black that in our short time of knowing each other, I already had a glimpse upon.

"Have a good day Miss Swan."

And there he left me on the sidewalk, confused and, quite frankly, a bit frightened of him. And suddenly I wondered if our meeting was really a mere coincidence, or if he had a hand in it.

I didn't call Mr. Black for the next days. There was something in my mind, in my gut, that kept me from calling him. Maybe it was the fear I experienced when I met him again. And so I carried on with my life, trying to forget the two conflicting men that kept invading my thoughts.

The next day when I went to work, Jessica seemed to be in a foul mood. She didn't talk to me, and didn't respond when I greeted her. I figured the talk with Mike didn't go well. I didn't try to ask her about it, and settled to just focusing on my job.

This same focus is what I hoped to achieve on Thursday when I tried to lose myself with my mission with the prisoners. Meeting Mother Elizabeth and her congregation reminded me of why I truly went to New York. They were kind to me, and taught me a lot of things I should prepare for before I will be proclaimed as nun. But try as I might, I still couldn't put my whole head in the tasks ahead of me.

The first project we planned was to have the prisoners help in our feeding program. They were assigned tasks to cook food, place them on containers, and give them to the street people. It took a whole day for us to plan everything. I was assigned to see that all prisoners were performing, and not taking for granted their chance to help the community.

And so the next day, with everything set, we put out stands in one of the few secluded streets of New York. The said place seemed familiar with the beggars because in less than an hour, it was already crowded with them.

As I helped on disseminating instructions to the prisoners, I saw one with the number 50664 sitting at the faraway benches. His isolation seemed deliberate, as though he doesn't bond well with the others. I approached him with a warm smile.

"Hello, Mister. I think you have to help with our task, so that we could also help all these people in need."

He smirked at me with sarcasm.

"What'st for me?" I traced a thick southern drawl in the way he speaks. He looked fifty – with greyish hair, pitch black eyes, scraggly face, and three missing teeth.

I tried to smile more. "Well, for one, it is at least better than doing nothing inside your cell. Also, this can help you in your parole." I sat beside him. He kept the sarcastic smirk on his face.

"Have been in jail for four years, miss. Ain't nothing good it did me. I ain't never goin' out."

"But wouldn't this – helping the others – at least give you something to feel good about yourself? It's never late to be a Christian to your neighbor, and I think you can be a good one."

He chuckled without humor.

"Good Christ'an, eh? Piece of shit, is more like it. See miss, I don't care 'bout them religion, or all the Jesus-God-damned-things you tell me. I ain't never goin' anywhere after this except hell."

I cringed upon hearing him swearing so explicitly. But even more, I felt sad that he has fallen so deep that there were no other endings he sees for himself besides going to hell.

I tried to understand him better, and so I asked "What is it that sent you here to prison?"

"Murder," he said without even blinking – the coldness in his eyes speaks volume. "I was hired killer. Been doing it for six years. Not really that good. And crappy old trick didn't work out, so I got cops smelling my fucking trail, and got me." He laughed sinisterly. "Hope I've been as quick as Masen. That boy works like a ghost. Got no cops on his trail. Always cleans after his job. Never got someone seen his face, that one. "

"Masen? What does he do? Is it the same as yours?"

"Yep, a fucking murderer, that's him. Earns millions. Boss' favorite. Even got the cops scared. Slits your throat if ya didn't see him. Fires a gun like its fucking invisible."

He came to stand as I contemplated the grimy things he just revealed to me, and intrigued about the person he just told me about.

"I'd be careful around here, Miss, if I were you. Masen's cruel. But I ain't seen anyone finer than him. Easy on the eyes, that boy. Will rob your heart and kill you at t'same time, if you're not careful. Better not cross him in the streets, if ya' know what I mean."

"But why does he do what he does? Why did he become a hired killer?"

The man only laughed.


	5. Chapter 5: All Walks of Society

**09-28-14 - Important Update**

Currently changing the title: "I'm in Love with a Murderer" to "The Revelations of an Innocent Mind". Hope there will be no confusions. Thanks!

* * *

><p><strong>The Revelations of an Innocent Mind<strong>

**CHAPTER 5: ALL WALKS OF SOCIETY**

The succeeding days has proved to me one thing: Mr. Black is way too persistent.

I met him for the third time Saturday, the next week since we 'bumped' into each other outside my workplace, when Mother Elizabeth's congregation and I were touring the city, asking for donations around the neighborhood. Dressed in the same style of sophistication, Mr. Black came by us to donate a much too large amount of money, telling me a brief 'hi' – his smile the same when I first met him. And I question myself again: coincidence, or planned?

I didn't expect him on Sunday, but when I went back to my apartment, a bouquet of flowers greeted me at my apartment door, with a card that says "I still expect our dinner-friendship-date." I didn't have time to process how he knew where I lived. I simply assumed that it's not hard for rich people to get simple information like my address.

On Monday, I knew that nothing was ever coincidence anymore when Mr. Black came by exactly around the time I arrived at my workplace. We greeted each other briefly, and because I felt on edge around him, I excused myself telling him that I have work to do. The same smile bid me a goodbye.

And the next day, Tuesday, I realised I could not avoid him. And try as I might, he will not easily give up unless I agree on the dinner-date he was offering. Because there sat on my door's foot is a box with a ribbon, where inside the pure white dress I first glimpsed upon the first time we met was neatly folded and covered in an expensive looking paper. And there I reached my breaking point. Enough is enough.

"Mr. Black?" I opened as greeting after his phone stopped ringing.

"_Yes?"_ He says on the other line.

"Good morning. This is Bella Swan."

"_Oh! Miss Swan! You finally called! Did you like my present?"_

I tried to calm myself down – it has been such a long time since I got mad that the feeling seemed foreign to me.

"Mr. Black, why on Earth did you give me an exaggeratedly priced dress?" I tried to soften my voice but it still came out a little sharp.

"_I thought you liked that dress?"_ He sounded unsure.

"Yes, I might have, but this is just too much. You have seen me asking for donations around New York last Saturday, trying to help the less fortunate, and now I receive a dress that costs a hundred thousand dollars? How do you think I would feel wearing it?"

A few silent moments passed before he spoke again.

"_I'm sorry. I just thought you might like it… You seemed different around me lately."_

I sighed. "I'm sorry, too, for getting mad. I just feel tired."

I sat at my bed's foot as I heard Mr. Black chuckle.

"_Tired? This early in the morning?"_

I smiled. "Yeah. There was just something on my mind these past few days, and however hard I try, I can't erase it from my mind. It kept occupying my thoughts. I feel tired because of it."

"_That's not because of me, right?"_

I shook my head though he can't see me. "No. It's someone else. But I've got to be honest with you Mr. Black…"

"_Jacob,"_ he cut me. _"Call me Jacob, please."_

"Jacob," I conceded, "the things you have told me a few days ago outside the streets – I think that was Tuesday or Wednesday last week – frightened me off. I was a bit aloof around you. I'm sorry."

A few moments passed again.

"_Well, I guess that's not a good way of meeting someone, isn't it?"_

I chortled. "No."

"_But you see, Miss Swan, I am that same person you met for the first time. It's still with me. I just…" _I heard him huffed. _"Maybe we could talk in person instead?"_

Seeing no other way, I agreed with him. "Alright. Where shall we meet?"

"_This may sound like I'm forcing you to go out with me, and I know that you know that I hope that's how it is, but there's an event I need to attend to this Sunday evening. It's a charity event. For the upper-class people of society. I will be able to explain to you everything there. Please, don't think I'm trying to trap you into anything. I just genuinely wanted you to see it my way. And maybe you'll understand why I am the way I am – why I do all that it takes to get something that I want."_

I thought about it for a few brief moments, weighing my options. But remembering how he helped me for the first time, and how I see that same smile is still with him, weighed more than my fear of him. And so I answered him "Well, if it's a charity event, I guess that's alright."

"Thank you Miss Swan," he sounded relieved.

I smiled. "Call me Bella."

"_Bella," _he answered right away. _"One more thing, Bella."_

"Yes?"

"_I told you that it's for upper-class men, right?"_

"Yes."

"_Wear that dress."_

With that, he hanged up on me, leaving me in wonder again how he could sound so carefree one moment, and then bossy the next. And if I have done the right thing.

That Sunday, I received another call from Jacob, telling me that he'll send me a stylist for my hair and make-up. I tried to refuse him, telling him it's an unnecessary expenditure, and even asked him if I could return the dress to him. However, he told me that the event requires people to come styled, and also pressed unto me that the dress is mine, and I could do whatever I want with it. I settled to sell the dress after I used it once.

At around four, my stylist arrived. I've seen gay people before, interacted with them a few times, but never really spend more than an hour with them. In my religion, gay people aren't truly that accepted. But as I interact with Eric, I saw otherwise.

"Miss Swan, right?"

"Bella," I nodded, ushering him in. For a gay man, I didn't expect him to look and act refine. But he does, and even dressed exactly like a man, wearing a coat and black shoes.

"What? Your first time to see a gay?"

I blinked twice. "How did you read my mind?"

"I'm used to that look, Bella. I've received more than a handful of them when I was young. And I still receive them once in a while."

Embarrassed, I looked away from him, my face surely as red as a tomato.

"I'm sorry. I am not used to your gender. I was raised in a convent."

It was his turn to sound surprised. "You're a nun?"

"No, no, no, I'm not." I said immediately, afraid he would ask more. But he didn't, and for that I was glad. Instead, he gave me a long response that made such a strong mark on me.

"I can see how you would think I am committing a sin for being gay. You were told that way. You grew up thinking there's only men and women. But Bella, I tell you, I've struggled with myself for more than eighteen years. Imagine yourself caged for forever – could you breathe? I told myself – no, forced myself – over and over to be straight, to like girls. But I never did. And one day, I just thought I can't live like that anymore. What have I done to deserve it? All the scrutiny, judgements, accusations… As a kid, I grew up fighting with other kids who tell me I'm gay. Why? Because it's the truth. And it was hard to accept it. And they were making fun of the truth like it was a crime. And so one day, I just snapped. I don't want to hide anymore. I want to live a normal life. I want to get out of my own cage. I want to be loved, and I want to give love in return – not a forced love, but an unending love. A love where I would give my all.

"And so, Bella, I will ask you again. Do you still think I'm committing a sin?"

For a few moments, I was speechless, only gazing at his deep-blue eyes. Somehow, I understood what he meant. I could see it in his eyes – his struggles, his fears, his questions, the unfairness he received. And his eyes looked so intelligent, laden with wisdom he acquired from his experiences at such a young age.

And I knew it was right of me not to blindly accept my religion's belief.

"Everyone commits sins. And everyone is the same in the eyes of God. You are as sinful as the next man I would meet on the streets."

He gave me an unbalanced smile.

"Such a heavy topic for a stranger I just met," he said.

I chuckled. "A nice way of meeting people."

He stood and walked towards me, offering his hand. "Hi. I'm Eric Yorkie."

I took his hand. "Bella. Bella Swan."

Eric was more than surprised to learn that I have never once wear make-up in my entire life. He was as astounded to hear how many things are prohibited in the convent, like the type of music we listen to, the kind of shows we only watch, the kind of dresses we wear – mostly donated clothes – the food we eat... The list is endless. He was beyond shocked that I didn't know the supposed celebrities: some people called Brad and Pit and a Cruise; that the only movies we could watch are biblical adaptations; and that I've never known the music called 'pop'.

"Well, since you are so clueless about these things, you are not allowed to look at the mirror while I work with you," he declared after combing my hair, making me face the bed. "It will be a surprise."

I tried to be as patient as I could throughout the whole process, but I would ask him every five minutes if he's done yet. And always, he would say 'no'.

Once, he got a bit ticked off with me and blurted "Honey, beauty takes time!"

"Sorry. I just can't deal with doing nothing. I can't imagine how the other girls can bear to wait this long."

"Well, that's because they can see what's being done to them."

"Can't I please do the same? I'm dying of waiting here."

And he gave me a resolute "no".

It took the three longest hours of my life before Eric was finally finished styling me. With a triumphant tone, he then declared me "officially gorgeous."

"Now, because this is a surprise, I want you to close your eyes as I turn you to your mirror. Don't peek."

Doing as I was bid, he assisted me to walk in front of what I assumed was my full-length mirror. I was feeling a combination of emotions: scared to look at my reflection, but excited all the same. And somehow, the excitement trumps my nerves.

"There. You can now open your eyes," Eric commanded.

And with that, I did, to the surprised look of the woman before me. Because never did I imagine I would turn out as such.

Unable to form words, I gazed at the woman with the outstanding beauty, having difficulty to grasp the concept that she and I were the same. I'm not one who's accustomed to vanity or cosmetics. However, in that moment, I felt that I was indeed beautiful – a word I've never associated my name with.

My waist-length hair, where before simple threads of brown on my head, now a shimmering mahogany brown, and were slightly curled at the tips. My brown eyes seemed to pop out from my face, with my eyelashes longer than usual, and a blackish cosmetic reminiscent of smoke was placed around it. My lips red – like the strawberries, and though the upper is bigger than the lower, it made it somehow look soft and it complements my look. And my usually pale white skin seemed lively somehow, with the pure white long-sleeved dress that reaches my knees, and the intricate floral embroidery all over the upper portion complementing its flowing skirt, letting the curves of my body that I never cared for before seemed to scream attention though not a peek could be seen.

It was a perfect combination of classy feminine and strikingly alluring. I never thought I'd ever use those words to describe myself, especially the latter, but somehow they were the only means to describe her. Describe me.

And through it all, I still didn't lose my prominent features, like the wide-length of my forehead, even after the styling. Only, it served to highlight them.

Except probably my red lips.

"Now, this would complete your look."

From beside me, Eric held the straps of a pair of white shoes with a flower design to dangle in front of me. My eyes got bigger as I looked at how high the heels were. The lady in front of the mirror copied my reaction, and somehow, she still looked good with the incredulous expression.

"Eric, I have never tried walking with heels before. I can't walk with those. And though they are the most beautiful pair of shoes I've ever seen, I already feel sorry for my feet just looking at them."

"Bella," he responded, arching one of his brows, "you will wear this. You know why? That's simply because I say so." With that, he put the shoes to my unready hands, an indication that I should wear them at once.

And I couldn't contradict the look on his face.

Another unnecessary expense came to me in the form of a car – too long unlike the usual cars – sent again by Jacob. It was to fetch me for the event.

As I got inside it, I was surprised how spacious it was, and that it was carpeted. The chairs were also not in their usual rows: two of them facing each other, and the other facing the driver's seat. According to the driver, it is called a limousine.

All in all, it looked classy. And expensive. And unnecessary.

It only took half an hour for me to arrive at the venue, considering how New York always seemed to never can escape traffic. Once there, the driver opened my door for me as I readied myself to walk with the difficult shoes, and assisted me until I reached the front door. Before totally leaving me, he handed me my invitation, which I gave to the officers who assisted me to come inside.

And once inside, I finally understood Jacob's insistence on me dressing up. Because I wouldn't have fit in with the crowd if I wore my usual Sunday dresses. Because even though I felt unusually beautiful, I clearly wasn't a stand-out from these people.

I knew nothing about fashion but I was sure everybody who was anybody in the room was wearing something off of the latest trend. They spoke very quietly, and always seem to smile at everybody, and all seemed to know everyone. Even in the five minutes since I arrived at the hotel's event hall, I was already greeted twice with a nod and a smile by the rich strangers. I tried to hide my confusion onto who could they possibly be, and tried smiled in return.

The food seemed to be overflowing. The laughter in the room was everywhere. And everyone seemed to be holding a glass of what I could only presume as liquor.

Clearly, I didn't belong here.

"Bella! Here you are," Jacob called out a few steps from behind me, and I turned around to face him.

As he walked towards me, I noticed that his eyes seemed unable to leave me, taking me in from head to toe. He walked slower than usual. A smile grazed his face when he finally reached me.

"Wow, Bella, you look…" it took him a few head shakes before he finally came up with "…just, stunning."

I blushed a bit.

"Thank you. You look…" and it also took me a moment to describe him before I finally blurted "…like you usually do. Very nice."

"Ouch." He held his chest in a mock-hurt expression. "After all my effort, I still looked the same."

"No, no, no! That's not what I meant. I mean, you always look good. And you always wear coat and tie."

He briefly chuckled, offering me his arm in the process.

"I know. I look great all the time."

I chuckled, linking my arm with his.

After that, Jacob introduced me to few of the people there. Their names didn't stick with me, but I kept my smile in place. They then would briefly talk about business, and would have a private joke, and then laugh, before they would both excuse themselves and would talk to the next person.

When I was introduced to at least twelve people there, receiving compliments about how 'lovely' I looked like, and blushing furiously all those times, Jacob finally decided I've met enough of the upper class people.

"This is just how we socialize. Easy enough, I guess. All you need to do is talk a little about trivial things, and then you'll excuse yourself just as fast." Jacob whispered in my ears just as the lights dimmed, startling me a little. "The program's about to start," he added, noticing my reaction.

"What are the things that will be given for the charity?" I asked.

He chuckled again – he seemed to be doing that a lot. "The _money_ will go to charity, Bella. The _things_, however, will go to the highest bidder. This is an auction event for charity."

"Oh," I uttered, finally understanding the mechanics. Just then, the emcee spoke from the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen of New York, a pleasant evening. This is another event where we can give back to the society. I'm sure you're all dying…"

I was listening attentively to the emcee when something caught my eye. I turned my head to follow what I saw.

At first, I didn't immediately identify the person. But after a few charged seconds, recognition dawned on me.

My eyes were seeing something I find hard to believe as true. But it certainly wasn't my imagination.

Because there, in that crowded room, in the most unexpected place, were two people. I didn't know who the lady was. But the other, I couldn't have been mistaken.

For there, with those warm-and-cold eyes, the same height and build, the tousled reddish brown hair, the strong jaw and sculpted eyebrows framed by the most handsome face, was a man I helped for a week. A man I came to care about. A man who invaded most of my thoughts right after his departure.

My eyes weren't deceiving me.

It was him.

It was Edward.

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><p><strong>AN:** Because some people here cannot be reached through private messaging, I have to answer through A/Ns. To the question will Edward show soon? Well, he just did.

Thank you for your time.


	6. Chapter 6: A Silent Crier

**09-28-14 - Important Update**

Currently changing the title: "I'm in Love with a Murderer" to "The Revelations of an Innocent Mind". Hope there will be no confusions. Thanks!

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><p><strong>The Revelations of an Innocent Mind<strong>

**CHAPTER 6: A SILENT CRIER**

In that crowded room, in the most unexpected place, I saw him again.

Edward.

It was like time stood still. Or probably slowed down.

The emcee still hosts the bidding, the rich people still raises their numbers, as the price for the auction still gets higher and higher; the talking and whispering and laughter still envelopes the hall; but somehow, all was a blur. Muted. Unnoticed. My eyes are only for Edward. And he, in turn, was staring at me with the same intensity and tension. I felt my heart beat faster. And I felt heated when he very slowly took me in, sweeping me with his eyes from my feet, lingering a bit to my upper body, until, slower than before, he gazed upwards, and finally reached the level of my eyes. I noticed him gasped for air.

And the same gasping was what I did when I took in how he was dressed.

No longer a David of Michael Angelo, he was more like an angel, like Gabriel, wearing a tux and a bow tie, snuggled to his lean and well-built body, polished to perfection. The tousled hair was a bit tamer, but still dangerously unruly on some parts, as though he spent too much time rolling his hands on it. He probably didn't know that he does that. He probably wasn't aware how he looks so charismatic with the tousled hair he has. And I didn't even have it in me to question how I find him painfully attractive and how as a novice nun, I shouldn't notice such things. All I knew was that he looked so incredibly handsome that my heart hurt from beating too much.

And as we gaze at each other – unbidden, charged with all the tension in the room, as my heart races even impossibly faster – a slow crooked smile graced his face, and I must have fainted because I felt like my heart stopped.

And then Jacob placed an arm on my shoulder which made me jump.

"I'm sorry for startling you."

I shook my head, unable to speak.

"Are you alright? You look… flushed."

I must have been blushing furiously, or it must have been because of the fast beating of my heart.

"I just, I just saw someone."

"Who?" Jacob asked, and tried to look at the direction where I previously looked.

"Just… excuse me Jacob."

With that, I extricated myself from him. He didn't even have the time to stop me because not two seconds after, I was already walking towards Edward. But as I looked at where he was before, only the empty wall greeted me.

Frustrated, I tried to walk faster. But with the high-heeled shoes I was wearing, walking is even harder than usual, and running seemed even more impossible.

I once bumped onto a man who immediately steadied me.

"Are you alright miss?"

"I'm fine, thank you," I hastily said, as I continued to walk towards Edward. But still, he was nowhere there.

I looked for him throughout the room, through the dim light, and through the clapping of the upper-class men as an auction has been won. But all I found was nothing.

"Bella."

A man yanked my arm. And I came face to face again with Jacob.

"I'm looking for someone, Jacob. He's somewhere here."

"There are a lot of people here, Bella. And it's dark. You'll find him for sure later – I'll even help you. But for now, can we please go back to our place?"

Thinking he was probably right, I nodded, defeated, and he ushered me towards our previous spot.

"Sooner or later the food will be served again. The bidding will have a short break. And the lights will return. You will find him then. All will be given their seats, and for sure, he will also have his table. That would be easier for us to find him."

I nodded again – still a bit anxious to come sprinting to look for Edward, although I knew Jacob was right.

Jacob kept a steady gaze towards me. A moment passed. He spoke – the sudden change in his tone was hard to miss.

"I asked you here to learn more about me, and now your attention is divided. Tell me, Miss Swan, what shall I do?"

With the new serious tone of his voice, I settled my eyes to him to find his the same as the one I feared before. His hands seemed a bit unsteady; his expression once again intense.

The fear enveloped me again.

Frightened, my voice was barely above a whisper when I said "Jacob, I'm sorry. But please, do not look at me that way. It scares me."

He took a huge breath to calm himself down.

"Sorry, Bella. I sometimes have trouble with my temper."

I smiled a frightened smile. And both of us knew that it was a fake one.

He huffed.

"Now I scared you again. What shall I do?"

"Nothing. Just tell me why you are like that, like what you promised to do."

"But if I will, will you hear everything that I will say? Will I get your full attention?"

With my head somewhere else, I didn't want to promise Jacob something that I can't do. But the primary reason why I went with him to the auction was to hear him out. And so, even if my mind kept telling me to look for Edward, I nodded to Jacob, determined to forget my anxiousness over finding the man I've helped before.

"Do you want to go out then? There's a pavilion near here. Maybe then we could talk without all these distractions."

I exhaled to calm my still fearful and anxious heart.

"Alright. Let's go to the pavilion."

With that, Jacob offered me his arm to lead me outside. Right on the door of the hotel's event hall, I took another glimpse inside, hoping to catch Edward again. But I was disappointed once more.

Once outside, I briefly marvelled at the beautiful scenery the pavilion offers to us. It was a cold night, and the stars were twinkling brightly in the sky. I took a seat at one of the benches, gazing at the stars and the beautiful flowers that sing to us. They, the flowers, serve as somehow a division from the world outside, as though Jacob and I were in our own bubble.

It was magical. And I couldn't help wishing it was Edward with me instead, so that I could talk to him and finally acquire a little bit of the puzzle-pieces that comprise him.

I mentally scolded myself just as Jacob sat beside me, reminding myself that I promised him my entire attention.

"It's beautiful here, isn't it?"

I nodded, discreetly rubbing my hands to the cold. Jacob didn't even notice.

"Alright. I promised you an explanation. And that's what I'm going to do."

I nodded again, looking at him directly at his eyes, showing him that I'm fully listening.

"Bella, by now, you must know that I am a very powerful man. And that I own large enterprises with chains of businesses."

"Yes," I answered. "Though I didn't know you own a lot of businesses."

He briefly smiled. "I do.

"But you see, I never really have to work exceptionally hard to achieve that. I was born from a very wealthy and powerful man – Billy Black – who only passed onto me his possessions. Some say I got lucky. I let them think that way. But Bella, I never was lucky. Not once."

He shook his head as I tried to understand what he meant. A few seconds after, he spoke again.

"I never was close with my father. I grew up with my mother, you see. But even as a kid, I knew that he was of strong character.

"We are the original family. My parents got separated when I was a kid, so my father had another family. But they never got divorced, because their marriage was the union of businesses on both our families, and no one from either of their sides would consent on the divorce. So you probably can guess why I inherited all his money now.

"My father never cared for me. I grew up thinking that fathers only visit once a month – that it was normal for them never to interact with their children. Even when he died, I felt nothing, Bella."

"But at least you have your mother," I countered. He shook his head with a sad smile.

"I never had my mother, Bella. Sure, I grew up with her, but she was always with him."

Confused, I asked "What do you mean?"

He took another huge breath.

"This is hard for me. I never told this to anyone before."

I took both his hands – pity and sympathy mixed with all the emotions I had from earlier. He set his eyes on our entwined hands when he spoke again.

"My mother died when I was twelve. I'm an orphan."

I rubbed my thumb on his knuckles, hoping to comfort him with the gesture.

"So am I," I revealed. He looked me in the eyes. "I was very young then. Most of what I remember was blurry. I grew up in an orphanage," I clarified. He shook his head.

"You're lucky you at least didn't know them."

I grew more confused, stopping my ministrations on his hands. He sighed.

"As a kid, on the short time my parents were still together, I was used to their fighting. They never told anyone, especially because they are part of the high-class society. They can't have gossips following them. But Bella, they get into so huge a fight. And sometimes, it turns physical. My mother is a battered wife."

Dread filled me at the words he said. He took another huge breath.

"That's what I don't understand about her – how can she still love him?! He beats her up, he goes to too many women, he orders my mother around, but my mother was still a martyr. She loved him way too much that it was killing her."

"But they got separated, right?"

"It did nothing to help my mother. She got depressed afterwards, become drunk, and never pays any attention to me. She only thinks about him. She always wants him back. She always begs him to come back. Even when I learned that her drinking got the toll on her, she only begged him more to come back. I offered my comfort to her, Bella, but she turned me away. She doesn't want me. She only wants him. Even on her deathbed, it was him she was calling."

My heart felt like it was drowning in his sorrow, feeling so sorry for what Jacob has had to suffer. But he continued on, and I continued listening to him.

"I remember when she died. I asked her what she wanted. She said she wanted dad. She never even asked for my name.

"But I tried, Bella. At that time, my father was in a meeting. I rushed to his office, demanded from his secretary that he comes out at once, but he never did. I waited for almost an hour…"

He shook his head and gulped, trying to proceed with his story.

"When I got back home, she's gone." As he said those last words, a sad chortle came out of his lips. His eyes were a bit glassy.

I couldn't help myself. I hugged Jacob.

I heard him gasped in surprise.

That was what I only did. I hugged him to try to comfort him, saying nothing. For I knew that at the times of great melancholy, only a silent listener can reach out to the broken heart. And that's what I did. I was the vessel for his unshed tears.

A few moments passed, and he placed both his arms around my waist, hugging me back.

I understood exactly what Jacob was trying to say. He never had his father. And though his mother was with him, he never fully had her attention. That is why it was imperative of him to have what he wants, because if he wouldn't possess it, he feels like nothing would ever be his. He wanted all that he could – businesses, auctions, and what other things I still don't know about. And me. He wanted the control he never had before.

But I knew Jacob was wrong. He doesn't want me the way he thinks he does. He wants someone who could understand him, and comfort him, and show him that he can be loved. He wants someone who could make him feel that he matters. He thinks he could find it with me.

That's why earlier, when he didn't have my attention he grew mad. That's why he wanted to shower me with material things because it's the only way he can show that he cares. That he has my attention. That he has my well-being in thought.

Jacob could not express himself aptly.

After what felt like hours of us hugging each other without words, I finally spoke. And it made Jacob hugged me more.

"You matter."


	7. Chapter 7: Human Complexities and Chaos

**A/N: There's a lengthy A/N below this chapter. It is imperative that you read it.**_**Please**_**. It's the first time I ask you of something, so please don't ignore the A/N below. Thank you.**

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><p><strong>The Revelations of an Innocent Mind<strong>

**CHAPTER 7: HUMAN COMPLEXITIES AND CHAOS**

It was around midnight, but I'm still as awake as when I first arrived at the auction. When we came back in from the pavilion, Jacob had entwined our hands below the table, and I allowed them to remain that way. It was my way of letting him release the pent up emotions he was feeling. Though I admit I still wasn't as comfortable around him as I should be, I couldn't tell him to detach himself as I know he was still hurting.

We have had a second break and it was now time for the auction.

Edward had not left my thoughts since I had seen him earlier. I might have channelled my attention to Jacob for the night, but I was still hoping I'd see him.

A woman tapped me on my shoulder, making me turn to her.

"Good evening miss." She had a smile on her face, which I'm not sure was just a product of her being professional or if she was honestly smiling.

"Good evening," I greeted back. Jacob turned his attention to us, halting the conversation he was having with our neighbor.

"May I know your name, please?" The woman asked.

"I'm Bella. Bella Swan."

Her smile grew.

"A pleasure to meet you Miss Swan, I am Gianna, one of the hostesses of the event. We have a tradition in where we ask women such as you to auction a dance. I was hoping you could accommodate us."

"A dance?"

"Yes. Then we will ask the gentlemen to bid for a dance."

"Oh." I looked at Jacob, unable to decide what to do.

He shrugged.

"Well," he said, "why not. It will be fun. And I will bid for you anyway." He winked at me.

"All right," I agreed.

"Thank you Miss Swan," Gianna said. "Shall we proceed at the backstage now? The others are already there."

I nodded, stood, and she ushered me there.

There were about twelve of us, and most of them seemed to know each other, so they kept to themselves, giggling and whispering. The staffs made us fill out a short form about our work, talents, hobbies, and such. It doesn't make sense for me to do this, but I did what was instructed.

After about fifteen minutes, the emcee spoke again, alerting everyone of the next event. After which, we heard him call us, so we all proceeded on to the stage.

The lights were a bit blinding, but once I adjusted my eyes, I grew nervous being in front of all the powerful people of New York. I knew that I didn't belong here, so paranoia kept me company as I feared that no one would bid for me. At least I knew Jacob would.

The first girl was called, and walked to the center. She seemed confident and assured of her beauty.

I grew more nervous.

"Gentleman, Siobhan Palmer is not just the daughter of the head of a leading construction firm in the country; she has her own accomplishments as well. She recently held her fashion show … of lingerie, I must add," the host winked and catcalls ensued, "and she is extremely talented with ballet. Just imagine the possibilities a ballerina can offer." The crowd laughed. Most of the men seemed taken with Siobhan, and she bowed accommodatingly.

"Gentlemen, what am I bid?"

Immediately, a man of about thirty years raised his number and shouted "three thousand dollars."

"Three thousand dollars from the gentleman with number 50. Anyone else?" said the emcee.

"Five thousand," called out another, who looked a bit younger this time.

"Five thousand from the gentleman with number 16. Another one?"

"Six thousand," called out the first man.

"Six thousand. Anyone higher than six thousand?" No one raised their number anymore so the emcee began the count.

"Going once.

Going twice.

Sold to the gentleman at the back!"

The crowd's applause echoed throughout the room as the man walked towards the stage to assist the girl down.

The cycle repeated for each of the girls.

The lowest bid was three thousand, while the average was five. A girl in fitted black dress, with luscious, red hair, got a bid of ten thousand. So far, she was the highest bid.

When it was my turn, my heart was drumming like the soldier's marching going to war. The emcee took the paper I filled out as he introduced me.

"Gentlemen, Miss Isabella Marie Swan. I must commend such a lovely name for such a lovely lady." My blush was instantaneous. I looked down in embarrassment.

"Miss Swan has been helping charities and volunteering for a church program working with the inmates of New York. Just imagine being imprisoned for ten years, and then you see her face. Wow. They must have felt they were in heaven."

The notorious catcalls ensued again, as I blushed a shade darker.

"She's a devote catholic – and of course, no one beats a woman of strong beliefs – and she also serves people…" He stopped at this part, and I waited for him to tell everyone my occupation at Starbucks. But he didn't continue. Instead, he left it that way, as if it was a mysterious, desirable job. "Let's just leave it that way, folks. Imagine everything that she can serve you." And the infamous wink ensued, along with more notorious catcalls.

"Gentleman, what am I bid?"

A man of about twenty-five immediately raised his number. My heart felt like it was an airplane turbine.

"Five thousand," the man shouted.

My eyes grew in surprise.

"Wow, that's a high bid at such an early stage. Five thousand from the gentleman with number 25."

"Six thousand," another man shouted; he was about forty.

"Six thousand. Anyone else?"

"Ten thousand," Jacob shouted from his place. My head immediately snapped to his direction. He smiled at me.

"Getting higher than ever. Ten thousand from the gentleman with number 64."

"Fifteen thousand."

When I heard his voice, my reaction was instantaneous. My eyes grew impossibly bigger; my ears finding it hard to believe what I just heard. I focused my eyes on him, as my heartbeat raced faster.

"A high bid from another gentleman. Fifteen thousand for number 75. Anyone else?"

Jacob threw him an irate look.

"Twenty thousand," shouted Jacob.

The crowd murmured in surprise.

"Getting hotter…"

"Thirty thousand."

Jacob face grew even angrier.

"Forty thousand."

At this point, the crowd was more than intrigued as to who these men could be. And all I could do was stand there, stunned at what was happening.

"Forty thousand from the gentleman of number 64…"

"Sixty thousand."

An echo of surprise rattled the hall. My co-candidates looked flummoxed.

Jacob gritted his teeth as he shouted "One hundred fifty thousand."

"Wow, this is really getting more exciting," the emcee spoke – his surprise genuine.

"Do we have more?"

A silence occurred.

My gaze never leaving _him_.

"Going once…

Going twice…"

"Four hundred thousand."

Silence filled the hall.

Every eye and ear in the room was suddenly attuned to the mysterious gentleman.

"Seems as though this dance is the highlight of the night. Do I have a higher bid? Maybe from the gentleman of number 64?"

Jacob's fists seemed to be shaking a bit, as _he_ was only smiling. The contrast between the two could have been comical were I not the one in the hot spot.

"Seven hundred thousand!" Thundered Jacob.

The crowd couldn't contain their gasps. Even they seem to be thoroughly excited by the exchange of biddings.

"Is this the highest we have yet?"

There was silence.

Everyone was looking at _him,_ waiting for his response.

However, there was only silence.

"Going once…"

Jacob smirked a little.

"Going twice…"

I could feel my palms getting sweaty as the crowd waited with bated breath.

"Going…"

"One million dollars!" _He_ shouted.

Everyone gasped.

Jacob's face contorted in rage.

"Incredible! One million dollars for a dance! Miss Swan must have been really something. Anyone else?"

I looked over at Jacob and our eyes briefly met.

"Going once…"

He seemed flustered. His hands were now visibly shaking.

"Going twice…"

As he was about to speak, I shook my head to him, hoping he'll get that as a 'no'.

"It's now on the second count…"

Jacob sighed, and I knew that it was finally over.

"SOLD! TO THE GENTLEMAN WITH NUMBER SEVENTY-FIVE!"

A thunder of clapping and catcalls echoed throughout the hall. It was the highest bid of the entire night, no doubt.

Our eyes met. Mine were stunned; _his_ were triumphant. A smug, crooked smile graced his face.

I couldn't believe Edward bid on me and won a dance, for one million dollars.

Edward walked towards me to help me down from the stage. I found it hard to move – immobile, I was focused on his unreadable eyes. The shouting and clapping of the people once again seemed a blur.

As I took the hand he offered, a sudden feeling – raw, foreign and heated – tugged at my heart. I felt like I wanted to hold his hand forever. It was a notion that confused and excited me at the same time.

He guided me toward a slightly darker part of the hall as the bidding ensued.

"Are you just going to keep staring at me like that?" He asked.

I found myself overcome with so many words, and there weren't enough moments to let them all out.

However, with all that I wanted to say, the only thing I was able to come up with was "You bought me for a million dollars."

"Well, hello to you, too."

I shook my head, trying to get my bearings.

"You bought _me_ for a _million _dollars. You didn't need to do that. I would have loved to dance with you even without the bidding. It was unnecessary."

"But where's the fun in that?"

"You lived next to me in that grimy apartment. I didn't know you were rich. And _you _bought _me_ for a _million _dollars."

He seemed as if he wanted to laugh – his lips twitched.

"Have I told you that you look stunning? Because if I haven't, well, at least I know I wasn't saying it out loud."

I probably looked dumb as I blinked three consecutive times over what he had said.

A chuckle escaped him.

"Who are you and what happened to Edward?"

The smile suddenly left his lips; he leaned his face closer to mine.

"I told you not to call me my name. Call me Anthony here."

I huffed. And finally calmed.

"How are you?"

"My injury's healed if that's what you mean." He took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and didn't offer me any. I wondered if he knew I didn't drink.

"Great. I was worried about you."

He eyed me while he bit the edge of his glass, and then finally took a sip.

"So, _Anthony_, can you please enlighten me as to why you bid such an _absurd_ amount of money?"

He had consumed the contents from his glass before he spoke.

"I didn't like him – I didn't like him for you."

"Who?"

"The possessive-looking guy who bid with me."

I was overcome with wonder at how he could aptly describe Jacob's character from their brief encounter.

"Jacob."

He gave a sardonic smile. "Huh. He has a name."

"He's my friend. And what you've said doesn't make sense."

As he licked the alcohol from his lips, I was suddenly overcome with a yearning I've never felt before.

"I shouldn't make sense, Bella. Not for you, no. I just couldn't stand the thought of you being with him."

The yearning grew and I didn't understand it at all_._

"Why is that?"

"Because I'm not good a good person."

I smiled at the memory of us discussing the same thing for what seemed like millennia ago.

"You know that I don't believe that, right?"

He shook his head. "You don't know me Bella."

I just shook my head, not wanting to restart that debate.

"But you still didn't answer what I truly want to know: why can't you stand me being with Jacob."

He didn't have time to answer, however, as the music soon began, and the emcee called for our dance.

In a gentlemanly fashion, Edward offered his hand to me. I took it with my heart feeling as though it was soaring.

He led us both to the dance floor – at the very center of the room – together with the other bidders and ladies. I briefly saw the enraged face of Jacob, who was staring towards us, and I flinched. Edward seemed to notice my reaction. Placing his hand on my waist, I placed mine on his shoulders, and he rubbed my back a bit in a comforting gesture. Our eyes met, and there it was again – the flicker of something soft.

Something good.

"Steer clear of him, Bella. I can read people very well, and I can sense that you would be in danger with him."

I touched his face. His eyes grew wide in surprise at my gesture.

"You don't need to worry about him, _Edward_" I whispered his name, "he's nothing but a friend to me."

He seemed to find it hard to breathe and before he spoke, he took a huge breath.

"Good."

"Can I ask you one thing?"

A look of uncertainty crossed his features.

"It depends on what you would ask."

We began to sway a little with the music. I felt that somehow, we were in our own bubble, as if there were no other people in the room.

The feeling excited and scared me.

"Can you please warn me if you're planning to leave me again?"

A moment passed – the pucker between his brows didn't leave his face.

"This is wrong."

"What is? Dancing with me?"

"Being with you at all."

Edward is undoubtedly the most complex person I've ever met. But there was something about him – a pull to him – when he looked at me. I couldn't place it.

"How can it be wrong?"

"Because I'm not good for you. You don't know me Bella, but for a brief moment, I felt as if I wanted to share the night with you. It was a moment of sheer weakness. Maybe I thought you could save me. But no, I'm wrong for you."

"You know that I didn't understand a word you said, right?"

He twirled me. When we came face to face again, the guarded look was back in his eyes.

"That could be for the best."

We didn't speak again for a few moments until he broke the silence.

"Bella, after this night, you will never see me again. I haven't thanked you properly for what you did for me; you saved my life. But that's not enough to save me as a man. And after this, promise me you won't go looking for me anymore."

A feeling of loss suddenly broke my heart. I felt pain in my chest just by the words he spoke.

"How did you know I was looking for you?"

He didn't speak – only looked at my eyes.

Understanding dawned on me.

"You were there, I didn't see things. You were outside my workplace that day when I chased you."

He shook his head.

I stopped moving.

"Why were you there?"

"No I wasn't."

"Yes you were."

He took a deep breath and guided me to continue our dance.

"I had to know that you were safe."

"Safe from who?"

"Bella, there are a lot of things you shouldn't know about me. And I don't want to involve you with them. This dance was just my chance to thank you for what you did for me."

I looked him dead in the eyes – the tension in the room came back again.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't see you anymore."

He returned my look with the same intensity.

"Because I'm dangerous."

My breath was stuck in my throat.

Why would he be dangerous?

Why am I not safe with him?

Why was he aggravated with Jacob?

And why, even after all he had said to me, do I feel like I wanted to stay with him and cling to him? What is this pull he has of me?

"Not good enough," I answered. His face lost some of its guarded look and a flicker of emotion brewed in his eyes.

Even braver, I added "I'm afraid of you."

His face contorted a little to a look of sadness.

"I'm afraid of you, Edward, because I'm not afraid at all. I'm afraid of why after all you have said, I'm still not afraid of you."

The music stopped, and so did our dancing. He gripped my waist a little harder.

"You should go now. I don't want you to see what will happen next."

"What is going to happen?"

He held my face between his hands and looked at me directly to the eyes.

"Please. Leave at once. Please."

And with that, he left me at the center of the room, stunned and perplexed.

The other couples got ready for the next dance.

And then it began.

It started with a scream from a woman. The entire security team went into panic towards the men's room. A bunch of the elite walked towards the commotion, looking for clues on what was happening.

And then, one crying woman shouted, "My husband's dead! They're all dead! My husband's dead!"

In addition, the commotion escalated to panic, crying, shuffling, and bewilderment.

And I was alone on that dance floor, having a hard time processing what was happening, and looking for Jacob to lead me outside.

But I couldn't see him.

And I couldn't move from my place.

Suddenly, someone grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the exit.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** **Disclaimer:** If you read Fifty Shades Darker, you'd know the auction bit in this chapter wasn't originally mine. But I wanted Jacob and Edward to fight over Bella. And knowing them, they wouldn't back down that easily, unlike Grey and his doctor. Sue me.

I met a wonderful person named Fran (her username here is SunflowerFran), who has been helping new authors such as myself with our stories. And because she's awesome, and bright, and gorgeous, and voluptuous, she asked to be my beta. Delighted, (touched, flabbergasted, overwhelmed, amazed), I hurriedly said YES, PLEASE. (She is not allowed to edit A/Ns though, so this part's grammar probably sucked). Anyway, it's thanks to her that now my story is being beta'd.

And, because she's wonderful, she asked her equally awesome, and bright, and gorgeous, and voluptuous, and generous friend to create a banner for this story. She made FIVE banners (imagine that?).

The official banner's link is facebook dot com slash photo dot php ? fbid = 535808459882436&set = a dot 132548016875151 dot 26216 dot 100003598613288 & type = 1

(you know the drill. change dot to . , remove the space, etc.)

I also placed the full link on my profile. (I think it would be easier to view it from there). The banner is also my cover photo.

Anyway, to Car Lemon of Canada, I haven't met you yet, but I love you. Thank you for your talent.

So again, beautiful SunflowerFran and equally gorgeous Car Lemon, thank you.

A lot of changes are happening right now with the story, like the title change, as you've noticed. Please bear with me. These changes are for the best.

Thank you all for your time. (Sorry for the lengthy A/N. I'm just filled with good news and positive vibes that I can't contain).


	8. Chapter 8: The Puzzle Pieces

**The Revelations of an Innocent Mind**

**CHAPTER 8: THE PUZZLE PIECES**

As I was dragged to the parking lot, I managed to look back to the event hall. I saw the police officers arriving, security restraining people as they tried to leave, and the frightened looks of the scrambling elites.

We came to a stop in front of a fast-looking car.

"I have to go back!" I shouted, but my captor didn't pay any attention. Instead, she only opened the car-door for me, and then walked around the car towards the driver's seat.

"What are you waiting for? Get in. Or do you need me to drag you inside?"

In the dim light, I marveled at her beauty and her confidence. Her long, blonde hair and her blood-red dress made her look very attractive. I've never seen anyone as beautiful as her. She looked like an angel – a dangerous, striking angel.

Then recognition dawned on me.

"You're the one Ed- I mean Anthony was with."

"Can we please save this chit chat for later? In case you didn't notice, we're trying to run away here. Now, get in."

I briefly contemplated my options.

How far could I run before she would catch me? As she saw me hesitating, she began to approach… And suddenly, without warning, she pushed me into the car.

In less than a minute, we were already hitting the road.

"Bella Swan, right?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Frightened by her maniac driving, I was clutching my armrest as I answered her, "Yes."

"Edward's a fucking lunatic, I'll tell you that…" I flinched at her words. She didn't break her sentence though, continuing, "Asking me to drive you while risking almost everything about us and our identity… As if it would help for you to call him Anthony! And that fuck ass bidding he did for you? He was nuts! What if they learn about us? He has to start using his fucking mind!"

The car accelerated even impossibly faster, and I was astonished at how she could easily maneuver between traffic.

"I hope Emmett cleaned the job well. Edward was the one to drag us into this in the first place. If something happens to Emmett, I swear to God, the fuckface will find his Volvo's body-parts rotting to pieces."

I waited until she finished ranting. And then, as though having a split personality, she suddenly smiled at me.

"I'm Rosalie, by the way. And _Anthony's_ my dipshit of a brother. We're not really related, you know, but we kind of grew up together as children."

I nodded, finding it hard to speak.

Shocked.

And unexpectedly relieved to learn that she was only a sister to him.

"This is your place, right?"

As I looked outside, I was surprised that we were, indeed, already outside my apartment building. It took us only ten minutes to arrive.

"You seem shocked. Did the event do that to you?"

I nodded again and tried to speak this time – my voice sounding weak.

"I'm just surprised, that's all. Can you at least tell me why Edward told you to drive me home?"

She shook her head in a reprimanding gesture.

"Don't call him by his name. We don't want anyone knowing that, you understand me?"

"But why? Who are you people? Do you have a connection with what happened back there?"

She smacked her forehead, laughing, which made me more confused.

"Well, at least he didn't tell you anything. About time that asshole used his head." She straightened in her seat. "You don't want to know about us, trust me. Edward's just stubborn sometimes, and clearly was out of his fucking mind to help you. But he's a bit overprotective. I just hope we won't see you again."

Hearing her hope never to see me again, felt as if I had been slapped. However, I quickly recovered, remembering what Edward had told me – how he is _dangerous_. And it seems like this sister of his, Rosalie, was only trying to protect them.

But, who are they?

"Bella, I'll tell you one thing, though."

She leaned closer to me.

"He never was like this. Distracted. But I think it's a good thing. He needs some break from all the crazy-shit we do. And you seem kind of a refreshing change." She then touched my face, which made me flinch.

"You're pretty, I'll give him that much."

Then suddenly, she kissed my lips, shocking me to my core. As she detached her lips from mine, she laughed at my comical-looking, frozen face.

"See you!"

After that, she reached across me to open my door, and I mechanically got out of the car.

As Rosalie drove away, I finally regained my composure enough to move my feet and walk towards my apartment.

The moment that I got inside my room, I checked my phone to find thirty missed calls and twelve text messages, all from Jacob. Nevertheless, I couldn't find it in me to call him back, feeling frustrated with his possessiveness. I couldn't find the strength to deal with Jacob for now, with all that has happened.

The events of the night replayed in my mind: The dead body... The scrambling people... Jacob's confession... The dance…

Who could Edward be?

Through all these thoughts, one course of action suddenly solidified in my mind. Determined, I promised myself one thing: I will find out Edward's identity.

And as I tucked myself in bed, I made a solemn prayer to God to guide me to him.

The next day, I sketched out a plan to find the host of the auction, hoping that he had a list of all the attendees. In that way, I was hoping to gain at least some information regarding Edward.

I called-in sick for work, feeling guilty for lying. However, I feel strongly that I need to figure out the puzzle that is Edward as soon as I could, or else, it would never leave my mind. Mike seemed to be in a good mood over the phone and allowed me without so much as a fuss.

To start my research, I had to call the only person who could introduce me to the host.

He answered on the first ring - his voice loud and panicked.

"Finally! I was already planning to contact the police. Actually, I already did, but they wouldn't do anything because you've only been gone for the night. God, Bella, where are you? Why weren't you answering my calls? What happened to you? I've been so worried."

I sighed, feeling tired of his questions even before I answered any.

"I got home just fine. You don't need to worry about me. I was driven by a friend, and I was just too tired to call you back; I fell asleep immediately. Sorry, I missed your calls."

"Who drove you home? Was it that guy who bid for you yesterday?" he accused, sounding mad and demanding.

"No. I was driven by _a girl_." I emphasized, not thoroughly lying; only not telling him everything.

He sounded calmer when he spoke next.

"But are you all right? Do you have a fever or something?"

His question alerted me.

"Why do you ask?"

"I called your boss and he told me you called-in sick. Are you okay?"

_Of cours__e, __he knows my boss._

"I'm fine, I just need to rest," I lied.

I've been constantly lying since I got to New York.

"Jacob, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you have a contact number of the host for yesterday's auction?"

"Mr. Jenks? Yes. He was the one who invited me to the event. Why?"

I smiled. "Can I please have his number or his address? I want to meet up with him."

"I can probably arrange that. But Bella, why do you want to meet up with Mr. Jenks?"

This is the part I didn't plan – Jacob's inquisitions. Of course, he would want to know.

I thought of a good enough excuse that didn't sound too over-the-top.

"I was thinking of asking him to benefit the charity that my congregation was working with. Remember the nuns I was with when we met while asking for donations?"

"Oh, yes. But wait, I thought you were helping inmates?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat – sweating a bit because of the lies I was telling.

"Amongst other things. We also help other charities. And I grew up in an orphanage, so, you know, maybe they can also benefit from the next auction," I blabbered, hoping he would buy it.

I sighed when he seemed to believe me.

"Yeah, well, when do you want to meet him?"

"I was planning to call him instead," I answered, fearing that if I told him I'd meet the host today, he'd question whether I was really sick or not.

"I'll send you the details in a short while."

I sighed in relief. "Thank you. This means a lot."

A moment passed as he seemed to struggle to say something.

"You weren't planning to ask him about that guy who bid for you, were you?"

More sweat permeated my forehead because of his questions.

"I don't even know him," I nervously laughed.

Again, he seemed to believe me and I heard him chuckle.

"Sorry. I was just paranoid. I kept thinking that he was the one you were looking for yesterday."

I nervously laughed again – my heartbeat accelerating because he guessed right.

"No. It was my friend. I've told you, I was driven by a _girl__friend_ of mine."

"I thought you said you were looking for a _'he'_?"

"No. I said 'she'. You probably heard wrong."

A moment passed, as I feared he would not believe me.

Then he said, "Probably."

I exhaled the breath I was holding.

"Okay, I'll just send you Mr. Jenks' contact info then."

"Thanks, Jacob."

"No prob," he said, sounding cheerful again. "But Bella, next time, please, try to contact me so I won't get worried, okay?"

"Okay."

"Rest, and get well soon."

With that, we finally both hung up, leaving me in wonder whether I truly fooled him or not and fervently hoping that I did.

The moment Jacob sent me Mr. Jenks' number and address, I immediately called him. His secretary answered and instantly scheduled an appointment for ten am. Apparently, it was Mr. Jenks' only free time. He was to attend several police interrogations regarding what had happened at the event, as well as meeting with those he had invited; feeling the need to apologize in person to each of them. I had a nagging feeling that once again, Jacob had a hand in getting in to meet Mr. Jenks. But then again, he seemed to have believed me when I said that I was sick. Not wanting to dwell too much on my hunch, I put it out of my mind. Whether or not my meeting was through Jacob's help, I would not waste the chance to find clues about Edward.

At nine in the morning, I was already headed towards our meeting when I passed by a newspaper stand. I would have not paid attention to it, if not for one of the headlines from the front page, which caught my eyes. I instantly saw that it was about the events of the previous night, and so, I made an impulsive decision to purchase one.

I took the opportunity to read it inside the cab I had hailed.

_City Councilman Publicly Murdered by Suspected Notorious Hitman_

_Mark Stinson, age 55, one of the city council members of New York, was killed last night at the hands of an unknown killer who is still at large._

_According to the testimony of his wife, they arrived at the event at the Grand Herald Hotel in New York City with their three bodyguards, all of whom were allowed inside the hall to secure the council member's safety. All seemed to go well at the auction, but around 12:05 AM, Mr. Stinson excused himself to go to the restroom, accompanied by the guards. Thirty minutes later, his wife, Mrs. Hazel Stinson, found it unusual for him to have been gone for so long, and asked one of the men to check on him. It was at that time they found her husband, as well as his bodyguards, shot in the chest in a pool of blood._

_Chief of Police Charlie Stanley said at a press conference that there is no outside person who could have committed the crimes. It had to have been one of the guests at the event. His team was currently looking for a political angle, or any enemies the Councilor might have had. However, he released a surprising declaration this morning: "The [bullet] shots were aimed very professionally, hitting the victims' chests at close range. There were no signs of any other injuries on their bodies or any struggle. None of them held a gun in defense. There were four of them, and from a police perspective, you would automatically reach for any defense weapon. These men were trained to protect, yet it seems they failed at their task. _

_"Also, it was done in the men's room. It's hard to know who will go in there, so it was hard to determine when to corner the victims. But [it's] smart, actually, because toilets are the only places without CCTV cameras." he added._

_He further relayed. "There were no power interruptions, so it was almost impossible not to see the culprit. The plan was cleanly executed. We've seen this before. This seems to be the work of Masen." _

_Chief Stanley refers to the notorious gun-for-hire that the police call 'Masen'. According to their records, Masen has killed a total of nine, high-profile men including the council member, all done in a clean-cut manner, leaving no trails. These people are all upper-class men who are involved in politics, business, and even sports, and were murdered in a span of five years. However, little is known about the mysterious killer. Only that he is a tall, medium-built man._

_Currently, the remains of Councilman Stinson are scheduled for public viewing on Saturday, May 3, and a cremation will follow._

_The question remains: was the killer a political rival, or was it the dangerous, mystery killer? And if it is truly the latter, who could this killer be? "He could be anyone you meet, any one of us," Chief Stanley grimly answered. _

"Miss, that's fifty dollars."

The cab driver made me jump a little, alerting me to the present.

I paid him, and got out at Mr. Jenks' office building, with my mind still on what I had read.

Four things jumped out to me from the article: tall, medium-built, hitman, and professionally done. In addition, the last quote from Chief Stanley leaves such a huge impression on me, regarding how the killer could be anyone I might have already met. After reading what happened from the newspaper, it felt to me as if the event I had attended was an entirely different one and that I wasn't there when it happened.

I said a small prayer for the dead man and hoped that whoever the killer is would find his way to God again.

When I arrived at the 27th floor, I was greeted by Mr. Jenks' secretary. I was then ushered to one of the empty meeting rooms where I then waited for about a quarter of an hour until Mr. Jenks arrived.

"Miss Swan, a pleasure to meet you."

He offered his hand, and I took it as I greeted him back.

"Mr. Jenks. Thank you for agreeing to meet me at such a short notice."

He took a seat at the head of the table and gestured for me to sit as well.

I noticed the dark shadows under his eyes, and I guessed that he must have been up all night answering the police about what had happened to Councilman Stinson. It made me question more whether meeting him was because of Jacob.

"No problem, Miss. It was thanks to you that I was able to raise big money last night. Although, I apologize for what happened after."

"It's all right, sir. It was out of your hands."

The secretary came in then to offer us drinks. I politely refused while Mr. Jenks requested a coffee.

"Not a fan of coffee, Miss Swan?"

"I already had a cup before I came here."

He politely smiled.

"I reckon that there is something you need from me. Shall we get on with it?"

"Yes, sir. There is something I want to know."

He gestured for me to continue.

"I was wondering if I could get a copy of your guest list from last night's event.

He looked a bit taken aback. "What for?"

"I wanted to know the man who bid for me, Mr. Anthony. We haven't been able to talk that much, you know, because of what happened."

I blushed accordingly, hoping he would interpret my embarrassment as the effect of what I've said, and not because I was skirting around my true purpose of acquiring the list.

"Young love? Is that it?"

I smiled, relieved that he digested my acting.

He chuckled a bit, but a tired frown showed on his face.

"I'm afraid I'm not allowed to give information about my guest list to anyone, Miss Swan, as they are high-profile people, and you've already witnessed what happened. I could only show the list to the cops."

I frowned at what he said.

"That's too bad."

He eyed me for a while.

"Although," he started, making me turn my head towards him again, "I probably can give you a little bit of information about Mr. Anthony." He eyed me directly. "But only him, Miss Swan, and that's because I think he wouldn't bid for you the way he did for nothing."

"Thank you Sir. You are very kind," I gushed, unbelieving and delighted. The middle-aged man smiled.

"But promise me you won't tell anyone that I gave you this, all right?"

"I promise," I hurriedly vowed.

With that, he summoned his secretary again. A few minutes later, the secretary came back with said file and his coffee.

He took a moment to scan the documents, until he took a piece of paper from it.

"Here," he said, passing the paper to me. "That's an original copy, so ask for my secretary to photocopy it for you, and then give it back to her. She'd know what to do."

"Thank you, sir. Thank you so much," I said as I reached out for the paper. I wanted to read it right there and then but I controlled myself, saving the information for when I was alone. I then stood to leave the room.

"Hold on, Miss Swan, there's one more thing that I wanted to say."

I nodded, taking my seat again and waiting for him to continue.

"You know, I've known many wealthy people from New York, but there's something different about Mr. Anthony. I've brushed arms with him on more than one occasion, but yesterday was the only time that he's done that – bid so fervently for someone.

However, I warn you to be careful. You seem like a kind, innocent girl for someone like him. I just want you to think it through before you do anything."

As I looked at his tired, worn-out eyes, I felt that somehow Mr. Jenks knew more about Edward than he let on, and that whatever it was, he wasn't able to talk about it to anybody for fear of his own safety.

I gave him a smile.

"Don't worry, Mr. Jenks. Your secret is safe with me."

He returned my gesture with a secret smile.

"One more thing: the cops will probably start questioning everyone about yesterday, so just be prepared when they get to your home."

"Yes sir. Thank you again."

"Have a good day."

When I arrived at my apartment, it didn't surprise me to find four officers waiting for me. I tried to act as normal as I could, casually holding the envelope with Edward's information inside. I silently thanked God that I first met with Mr. Jenks so he was able to warn me about this beforehand.

"Good afternoon, officers. How can I help you with?"

I unlocked my door, and then gestured for them to come inside. All four men took in my invitation.

"Good afternoon, Miss. I believe you are Isabella Marie Swan?" One of the officers – the oldest of them, and the one with a moustache, greeted me.

"Yes sir. Please take a seat." I gestured at my couch. Again, they took the invitation.

The man with the moustache made a quick scan about my room, lingering his eyes on my bible, rosary and figurines.

"A devote Catholic, I see," he commented.

"Yes. I grew up in a convent."

The other three men made slightly surprised reactions, but the mustached one only cleared his throat for what he was about to say next.

"You probably already have a clue why we are here."

"Yes. The auction yesterday was truly an unfortunate event," I replied with genuine sadness.

"Yes. Well, I'm Charlie Stanley, chief of police of NYPD... or that is what I say to the press, but in truth, I'm part of FBI."

"Oh," I uttered, surprised that the FBI is part of the investigation so soon. In addition, as protocol, he showed me his badge.

"We came here, not only to investigate yesterday's event. We're also here because we wanted to know about this notorious hit man, Masen."

"Hitman? What have I got to do with a hit man?"

"Well, a certain report claimed that sometime last month, Masen had stayed at one of the cheap apartments in Manhattan. We're looking through all the possible places, and we have reason to believe that he could have been here, on this floor."

"What? How could that happen?" I laughed, unbelieving. "The only other person who stayed here was…" I started, but remembering how I first encountered Edward, and how he was mysteriously injured, made me stop talking. Could it be…?

My hands shook a little.

"Yes, Miss?"

I looked back at the officers – the tumultuous circumstances catching up on me.

Edward's refusal to use his own name…

Edward telling me he is dangerous…

Edward bidding for me for such an absurd amount of money…

Edward turning out to be a wealthy man…

Edward cautioning me to leave immediately after the dance…

Edward's injury…

The newspaper this morning…

Masen…

Suddenly, the words of the Southern prisoner I met days before rang in my head: _I'd be careful around here Miss, if I were you…_

He couldn't have been him… could he?

"Miss Swan? What is it?"

Startled, I cleared my voice to answer agent Stanley.

"Nothing. What were you saying again? About this Masen?"

"Well, actually, you were saying something about your neighbor."

"Right. Um, Sir, before I say anything, can you please tell me first what you know of this Masen? Is he dangerous?"

The men had shared a look before agent Stanley spoke again.

"He is more than dangerous, Miss Swan. He's a hitman. He's skilled at killing."

I nodded, feeling unsettled.

_It__ couldn't have been him…_

"But had he ever killed a civilian? You know, a regular citizen? One who's not a politician or renowned?"

The line between the agent's eyes got deeper as he seemed perplexed about my questions, adding to the other stress lines he already has on his forehead.

"Why do you ask?"

I vigorously shook my head. "Just curious."

One from his team answered me instead.

"Masen's a little bit different than most hit men. I mean, that guy only targets high-profile men, and we sure can get that it's a bigger commission for him. But all those he kills – even the bodyguards yesterday – weren't that spotless…"

Suddenly Agent Stanley hit him in the arm, silencing him immediately.

"Anyhow, Miss, Masen seems to target only the upper-class men, so you shouldn't worry that much about him. Unless you're actually a wealthy heiress of some sort," agent Stanley interjected, eyeing my room at the last part of his sentence as though trying to make his point.

"No. I was just curious."

"So, about that neighbor…?"

"Oh, yes, um…" I contemplated whether I should tell him what I know. I do not have proof about anything yet, but I knew in my gut that there's a high probability that I'm right. I even feel stupid for not seeing it at first – all those little details seem to point to his true identity. The only question now is what I should do about this knowledge.

Edward pleading for me not to tell anyone about him echoed in my head. He had said that I would be in danger if I tell someone about him.

However, the right thing to do, morally and socially, is to tell the truth. But will I be able to carry the guilt if I knew that I betrayed his plea?

I tried to swallow the bile in my throat before I spoke.

"Well, sir, I had a neighbor almost a month ago. He's about six feet in height, medium-built…"

"That's him! I mean, that could be him," said the other men.

Agent Stanley gestured for him to stop talking.

"Had you seen his face, Miss?"

"I never actually interacted with him. The only time I saw him was one night, it was dark, and he was wearing a hat so I didn't see his face. But he was tall, and Caucasian. He kept to himself, you know. He never really talked to me. He always moved so silently, like a ghost or something. He moved out about a month ago," I lied again, for what seemed like the umpteenth time for the day, gripping the piece of paper that contains the information about him harder.

"Sounds like him. Well, thank you for your time Miss Swan," the agent and his team started to stand, and I copied them. "We're going to do our investigation next door."

"Thank you, sir; I hope that I was able to somehow help you."

"You did, Miss," he gruffly answered. "You confirmed one thing: Masen was the one who killed the Councilman yesterday, and he's probably not far from here yet."

I gulped.

"Have a good day."

With that, they finally left my room, leaving me with my thoughts.

The moment that I closed my door, I felt like crying from what I did and from what I learned. It was a stupid reaction, but some helpless tears dropped from my eyes. My mind was in chaos; my emotions were conflicted. I felt as if I had gathered and sorted the puzzles pieces, but instead of finishing, I was left with a bigger image and larger puzzle.

One important question remained.

What should I do now?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Beta'd by the awesome SunflowerFran. You probably wouldn't understand this chapter without her help. She's awesome that way.

Also, a shout out to _Find your 'Ella_ group in FB, as they have made this story "Story of the Week". That's really amazing and I'm quite overwhelmed. Thank you so much!

Thank you all for your time.


	9. Chapter 9: The Girl in the Coffee Shop

**The Revelations of an Innocent Mind**

**CHAPTER 9: THE GIRL IN THE COFFEE SHOP**

**Anthony Platt, Jr., son of Elizabeth and Anthony Platt, Sr., 28 years old multi-millionaire CEO of Platt Corporations in England, UK.**

I don't believe it for a minute. No CEO would think of staying at some cheap and grimy apartment if they could stay at a luxurious, five-star hotel. In addition, I hadn't even sensed an English drawl in the way he spoke. No. The information in my hand is falsified – something to tell the public when they ask about him. If anything, the only piece of information I believe therein was his age.

I browsed more of the document given to me by Mr. Jenks, finding his two office numbers, his address in England and here in the US, and a little bit about his hobbies. They all sounded superfluous, as if looking into the profile of a man who has everything in the world and who has the skills and capacity to do anything he wanted.

This isn't the same man who wouldn't go to the hospital when he had been stabbed.

I lie here three in the morning finding it hard to sleep, feeling as though all the information I've gathered today would crush my brains. Sipping my fourth cup of coffee, the question was once more brought to the forefront of my mind: what should I do now?

I know that keeping the information I have from the FBI is socially and morally wrong. Moreover, it makes me feel tremendous guilt. But at that time, when they had asked, I couldn't bring myself to say what I knew. But why couldn't I do it?

I sighed, hoping that sleep would finally find me.

When I woke up the next day, my dreams were still vivid … As if they had been real.

I remembered everything, and still felt the emotions I had experienced in my dream; _Edward was dancing with me – the setting was the same as in the auction – and he made me twirl. When I faced him again, I didn't see the same, attractive man. Instead, his face was covered in blood, and in his right hand was a gun. He was smiling that same crooked smile, but it didn't have the same impact on me; for the first time, I was afraid of him._

_I ran away from him, only to stumble on something. When I looked at what it was, I saw a body. Frightened, I screamed. Then Edward fired a bullet into the body, and the blood gushed from it._

_As I inspected the body more, a gasp escaped my lips. Because I realized that I knew who the man was._

_It was Jacob._

That was when I woke up.

A cold bath and more coffee did nothing to erase my dreams, either did praying.

When I arrived at work around seven in the morning I was surprised to be greeted by a jolly Jessica, making me briefly wonder how she got over her depression.

"There's a guy waiting for you. And F-Y-I, prepare yourself, 'cause he is hot, like capital H-O-T."

My heart beat faster as my mind conjured that it could be Edward.

"Where is he?" I asked as I put down my bag on our small locker and pulled out my apron.

"He's right there, the table at the very back."

"Thanks." I put on my apron and took in three, deep breaths. My heart was drumming as I walked, looking down at the floor.

And then, I looked up.

When I saw who wanted to see me, I exhaled loudly.

"Hi."

"Hey," I greeted back – disappointment coloring my tone to find that it wasn't Edward who was waiting for me.

It was Jacob.

He noticed my reaction and his expression changed to one of worry.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes," I replied, taking a seat in front of him.

"You look tired. Are you sure you're not sick anymore? I was so worried about you."

"I just couldn't sleep well yesterday. Had a bad nightmare. And these cops came to my house asking me about what happened at the auction."

He relaxed, swallowing my excuse.

"Yeah, they also went to my place."

I nodded. "So, what brings you here?"

"Oh, umm, I brought you something." He placed a container of food on the table between us. "It's soup. I asked my housemaid to make it for you. I just thought it would be good for you to recover after being sick."

"Oh," I uttered, surprised and touched. Then I smiled a genuine one. "Thank you. That's very thoughtful of you."

"Nah. I was actually planning to come to your place yesterday, but there was some stuff I was working on that I couldn't postpone."

"Of course. Your work is important."

He bit his lip, as though there was something he was not telling me. However, he said, "Yes, work is important."

A moment passed – neither of us talking – until Jacob broke the silence.

"So, have you heard from the guy that bid for you that night?"

The feeling of sadness filled me again.

"No. And I don't plan on that happening."

"Oh, really?"

I took a huge breath. "It's probably for the best. We are so unlike and lead very different lives."

"I thought you didn't know him?"

Alarmed at what I had said, I immediately covered my answer "If he could go to the auction and bid that much money … what could we possibly have in common? Should I ever see him again I wouldn't try to initiate any conversations."

"Really? Then why did you try looking for him through Mr. Jenks?" A hint of cynicism colored his tone.

Dumbfounded, I looked at him finding it hard to speak.

"Y-you know about that?"

Then it all clicked.

"Oh my, you were looking into him. That's your 'important' work, isn't it? You were investigating E-Anthony?"

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Jacob's eyes grew wide and his mouth popped open.

Feeling irate, frustrated and tired of his attitude, I questioned him in a high-pitched tone "Why did you do that, Jacob? What do you want to know about him?"

"Look, Bella, he bid for you for a God-damned million dollars. The guy is obviously more than crazy about you. I had to know his motive, and you already know that I like you. I can't let him ruin the whole game for me."

"Jacob, I AM NOT SOME KIND OF GAME!" It was the first time in my life that I had ever shouted at someone, and somehow, it felt good to let my emotions out. Right now I felt conflicted; I was annoyed, aggravated and indignant. At the same time, I was both guilty and sad, and Jacob just showed me that his possessive nature was ruling him again.

Somehow, I found myself already standing as I continued my rant.

"And I've told you I don't date. I only want friendship from you. How is that so hard to understand? It shouldn't matter to you if I talk to someone else, or that I like someone else, or if I don't. We danced – that's all. And you want to dig everything up about him. I'm not some kind of possession you could have by being so utterly demanding and stubborn. I have a mind of my own, and my decisions shouldn't concern you. This can't go on any longer – you can't always get in between my life like this. You have to grow up, Jacob. I can't be a mother to you."

I remained standing with my hands shaking. Everyone from the café was looking at us, but I couldn't find it in me to care about what they thought. All I knew was that I wasn't in the best of moods and Jacob ruined it more with his misplaced possessiveness.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he stood up as well and tried to speak in a calming voice as if I were some animal going berserk and he was trying to tame me. "I knew I shouldn't have done that, but I can't help it. It was wrong of me, I know. Please forgive me. Give me another chance."

"You can't always try to rule me."

He nodded saying "Yes, and I'm sorry."

I still wasn't placated, however, and he seemed to sense this.

"Would it help if I tell you I didn't learn anything about him?"

I blinked once.

"You didn't?"

Seeing that I was starting to calm down, he grasped this chance to speak. Taking his seat again. I also took mine.

"I couldn't find anything more than what you already did. I learned that he was from England and that his business was there, but I didn't find anything useful. What is he doing here? Who is he? Is he married, or dating? What made him come to the auction?" He shook his head, as though he was helpless.

What he didn't know was that what he told me only strengthen my guess about who Edward was.

"Yes. I also didn't learn anything different," I lied – again, constantly lying this many times – and fiddling with the corner of the food container as he eyed me.

"Have you forgiven me now?"

I sighed and finally relented.

"Yes. But Jacob, this – I couldn't use a better word – this _obsession_ you have of owning something has to stop. You can't possess me. And I _don't_ date," I emphasized the word.

He nodded.

"All right. But I can still be a friend, right?"

"Yes. But nothing more," I warned.

Jacob smiled, and I hoped that he finally would stop pursuing me.

* * *

><p>Days passed – as they should, but every ticking of the clock seemed like a lifetime to me.<p>

I knew that I had to get on with my life and that what I had told Jacob about not seeing Edward anymore was true. That day, I vowed never to search for anything about Edward, finally understanding how complex his situation was, and that I should not be dragged into it. I knew it was the right thing to do.

I have tried to make every day a typical one. Going to work, helping the inmates, going to church, spending time with Jacob. However, if I were truly to divulge what was deep within the confines of my mind, I know that what I am showing everybody is not how I honestly feel.

I still feel lost and empty.

And I don't know why, but somehow I felt as if there was a hole in my chest – as though some pieces of my heart were missing. I have not been able to find an exact word to describe what that means.

However, there were times when I would come across some news about him, about Masen. I felt like such a fool that I'd never noticed them before. But now, they seem to be everywhere. Updates from the police about him, more descriptions about who he could be, his latest whereabouts, etc. And I would release a huge breath whenever there was no mention about him killing another person.

I haven't talked to the Southern inmate anymore, and he still always keeps to himself. However, whenever I would observe him, I would always see him grinning as though there was something he was finding amusing. One of the nuns cautioned me that he might be daft.

I still pray each day, and my confession to the priest that Sunday after my continuous lying had led to a lengthier prayer. But quite frankly, though I feel guilty for lying, I do not regret all that I did. Every day, I would pray for Edward's safety, and that God would guide him and that somehow, someway, he would receive help.

I pray for him even more than the children at the orphanage.

Life is normal.

Boring and normal.

However, I feel as though my perception about life and the world had a permanent change, as though the past events had opened my eyes to many other things that had never concerned me before. Because of this, I feel as if I have grown a year or two.

"She's looking at you again."

"That girl?"

"Yes, like she does every day."

I stared back at the girl with short, black hair, as she sipped her coffee and pretended to read the magazine in her hand. She was tiny, thin, and had big, dreamy eyes.

"When did she first arrive?" I asked Jessica, my eyes not leaving the girl.

"You mean when was the first time she came here, decided to spend the whole day just sipping coffee, reading a magazine and acting as if you hadn't noticed her? About three weeks ago. Why?"

I chuckled at the tone Jessica used to describe the stranger… As though she was some stalker.

"I just think I have a very good idea why she's here."

At first, I hadn't believed Jessica when she told me that the girl was spying on me. However, I see her here, all day, whenever it's my shift, so I wondered if she could be right. After Jessica revealed to me that on the days that I don't work she is not present, I finally took her word for it. It would be too much of a coincidence for her to be around only when I am.

"Do you plan to talk to her?"

I busied myself with wiping the countertop.

"I don't know. Maybe."

Right on time, Jacob entered the with our lunch.

"Your boyfriend should get a gold medal for punctuality – he never misses our lunch break."

"He's not my boyfriend."

Jessica gave me a teasing smile.

"Sure, he's not."

Ever since the day I told Jacob to stop pursuing me, he made good on his promise and treated me as a regular friend. He never showed me his possessive nature, and I was hoping that it would stay that way.

"How about you and Mike? You guys seem to be very secretive these days."

Jessica made a sign of zipping her lip and throwing away the key.

"All right, all right. I get it. Now, go to your secret boyfriend."

She made a chuckle as she ran towards Mike's office.

Even without Jessica confirming it, I know she and Mike were already in a relationship. I couldn't understand why they try to keep it a secret in the first place – they were so obvious to me. But whatever their reasons are, I'm just glad that Jessica's wish had finally been granted.

"Hi Bells. Lunch?"

Jacob has somehow developed that nickname for me. And every day, his greeting has been the same.

"Sure. I'll just ask Tyler to sub for me."

When Jacob and I were eating, I noticed the girl keeping a closer eye on us.

It made me a bit uncomfortable.

And because of that, at the end of my shift, I planned to confront her.

However, that was easier said than done.

Before confronting her, I spent about half an hour in the girl's room rehearsing what I would say. After which, another half hour was spent just getting the courage to walk the few steps towards her table.

When I did reach her table, all the things I wanted to say came out as "What do you want?" And it was said through a shaky voice that didn't come out quite as expected.

It sounded pathetic.

She smiled at me as she put her magazine down on the table.

"Why don't you sit first?" She had a very pleasant voice, like a voice on a TV commercial.

I did as she has asked – my fists closed as I tried to be confident.

"I know who sent you here, and I know you've been watching me all the time. Tell him that I don't need anyone watching me."

She chuckled – even her laugh was like music.

"He's right – you're incredibly observant and brave, though I'd suggest you loosen your fists a little bit. That has to hurt."

Again, I did as I was told, and took a huge breath. She leaned closer to me, crossing both her hands below her chin.

"So, who do you think sent me here?"

"Don't play games with me – I know it was Edward."

She chuckled again.

"Bingo. He'll be pissed that you guessed right. I guess I wasn't as discreet as I thought."

I wondered if she did that on purpose – make me notice her watching so I would come over and talk to her.

"What does he want?"

"Your safety, of course. And I have to agree with him on one thing – I also don't like that Jacob guy hovering over you like a hawk."

That pissed me off a little.

"Well, tell him, his debt is paid. He doesn't need someone to watch over me anymore – I am safe. He doesn't need to do this out of guilt or as payment to me for saving his life. Also, reiterate to him that I already told him that Jacob was a friend and nothing more."

"Honey, trust me, Jacob is _not_ just a friend. I know the likes of him. And though you may treat him only as such, I'm sure that's not how he interprets your intentions."

I huffed.

"One more thing: I don't think he sent me over out of his guilt or payment. I think he genuinely cares for you."

Hearing her say that made my heart begin to beat in a different way – a beating that had only happened when I was with Edward. It was as though some of who I had been before had returned.

Nevertheless, I squashed it as soon as I noticed the change in my heart – I could not have this hope anymore.

"I thought he told me to stay out of his life?"

"_Anthony_ is overprotective about the people he cares about. He's paranoid about their safety. He doesn't want to lose anyone again."

Does that mean that he had lost someone important before?

"Well, tell him I made good on my promise. He won't see me ever again. So please, have him make you stop following me."

"I'll try."

"Also, I know the truth."

This changed the girl's expression, making her focus on me even more.

"What do you mean?"

I sighed, drawing strength to say my hunch, knowing that this could be the moment to prove that I'm correct.

"Edward. Anthony. Masen. That's him, right?"

The girl gasped in shock.

"You know."

"Yes."

"So now you don't want to see him again because you know."

"Yes."

A look of sadness crossed her feature.

"I thought that you were the answer to what we've always wanted. I guess I was wrong. This is sad."

I took a huge breath.

"I didn't decide not to see him because of what he does – it's more that I don't think our worlds could ever be the same. I know that he has to have his reasons to have done the things he has done – It's been said that he had never killed an innocent person; that's what I've heard."

She stared at me for a solid minute as I fiddled with the edge of the magazine cover before she spoke.

And when she did, it made me question so many things.

"Are you afraid of him now?"

Am I?

I was afraid of him the first time I dreamt of him. For the rest of the nights that he had starred in my dreams, it was always the same scenario with little to no variation. In these dreams, I see more of him than what I had noticed from the previous night.

There was sadness in his eyes – a deep anguish and torture. And those were the same eyes I had first glimpsed upon when I nursed him back to life.

So, am I afraid of him?

"No. I am not afraid of him. I think more than feeling fear, I feel hope for him – that he will find his way. Hope that whatever anguish and sorrow he carries with him will finally leave."

"We all do."

When the girl said that, her eyes fired with a determination I had never seen before.

"What's your name?"

She smiled. "Alice."

I smiled back. "Well, Alice, it was great meeting you."

"I hope this isn't the last."

She offered her hand for me to shake, and when I did, she stood briefly to hug me.

With a smile, Alice left the shop, making me wonder if I would ever see the vibrant girl again.

I had decided to do a little grocery shopping before I returned home. There was a familiar feeling of sanctuary that I find whenever I do the mundane task of picking grocery items. It feels as if I'm in my element, and that I have at least some control over my life. It is numbing, and it makes me momentarily forget the talk I had with Alice and all that had happened the past few months.

I had been stuck in traffic and arrived home a little later than usual.

When I had reached my apartment, I was surprised to see Jacob outside my door waiting. He reeked of alcohol and seemed to act differently.

"Hey, Jacob, what are you doing here?" I greeted with a smile while cautiously eyeing him.

He turned his head towards me and I could see how intoxicated he was.

"Why can't you love me?" He said sounding a little slurred.

"Jacob, I thought we were over this and were friends?"

"Why do you still love him after what he's done? Why have you never loved me?"

Hearing him say those words made me realize that he was thinking about his mother.

"Jacob, I'm not your mother. I'm Bella."

He walked slightly unbalanced towards me until he was only a few inches away.

"Bella…"

"Yes," I answered.

He took a few breaths.

"You're just like her."

"What do you –"

And then he grabbed me forcefully and crashed his lips on mine….

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Again, thank you to my amazing beta Fran and her superb editing prowess. (You know how betas are the greatest and they put a lot of effort on what they do, I think even as much as the authors do? Yeah, they're generous like that).

Enjoy!


	10. Chapter 10: Two Dark Men

**The Revelations of an Innocent Mind**

**CHAPTER 10: TWO DARK MEN**

As Jacob forced his lips to mine, my eyes grew wide in shock and I momentarily froze. It took me a few moments to get my bearings, and when I finally did, he used his weight to slam me into the wall on the side.

Shouting in fright, I pushed him with all the strength I had, making him stumble backwards.

While he was down, I shakily searched for my keys in my bag, feeling an adrenaline rush course through me. It took me a few tries before I finally was able to get the key in the lock, allowing Jacob time to stand. I hastily got inside, but not in time to get the door shut.

"Bella, I'm sorry! Let me in!" He shouted on the other side as he pushed harder.

"Jacob, leave please, you're scaring me!"

My fright made me tear up, and my heart drummed in fear.

"BELLA!" Jacob got louder, sounding more mad then he was before. "LET ME IN!"

We had struggled for a few seconds before Jacob was able to wedge his foot between the door and its hinge. I caught a glimpse of his furious face, which made me inadvertently loosen my hold.

More scared than ever, I searched my apartment for any defense weapon that I could possibly throw at him. My hands were just a few inches from my lamp before Jacob got a hold of my foot making me stumble forward. I cried out in a mixture of pain and desperation. He hugged me from behind and made me turn so that I was lying on my back facing him while he was on top of me.

More tears fell from my eyes.

"Jacob, please, let me go! You're hurting me!" I shouted – my voice shaky from crying.

I tried hitting him with my hands and kicking, but he had a tight hold of my wrists.

"Why can't you love me like him? Why can't you accept me?"

He placed his mouth on my neck, kissing me there, as his hands roamed my body. I didn't even have the chance to feel repulsed by his putrid breath that reeked with alcohol. All I could do was to struggle to get away from him as more tears clouded my vision.

"HELP ME! PLEASE! GOD, HELP ME!" I cried, feeling helpless.

Then, all of a sudden, I was free.

I didn't see exactly what had happened – my eyes had been closed when Jacob's wet mouth started kissing my collarbone – but when I tried to sit up, I saw Jacob being punched by another man.

In the dim light, my eyes adjusted to see who had rescued me.

It was _him_.

Edward.

It was like watching a lion try to kill its prey.

Jacob stood no chance as he received punch after punch. I could hear angry groans from Edward, as well as the snapping sound whenever his fist met Jacob's face. It took me a few moments to move from my place, but when I approached them, what my eyes saw in Edward's face made me frightened more than ever.

It was in his eyes – a fury I have never seen before. It was as if he was consumed by it, and his every move was driven by his desire to crush Jacob.

His desire to _kill_ Jacob.

And I knew I needed to stop him.

"Edward, stop! He's not moving anymore! Stop! You're killing him!"

It was as though he was deaf as he continued to hit Jacob's already bloody face.

"Edward, please stop! I'm safe!"

He didn't even flinch, or halt his actions.

As a last resort, I cried out "EDWARD! PLEASE! I'M SCARED!"

Hearing me say that, Edward suddenly froze. However, his eyes didn't change their murderous look and I could clearly see how consumed he was with rage.

He was resolute – vindictive – in what his course would be.

However, that sudden halt was enough for me to try to make him stop.

"Edward, please, I'm all right. Please, stop. Don't kill him. Please." More tears fell from my eyes.

Edward turned his head to look at me as Jacob groaned.

"We have to leave," Edward said between gritted teeth. I immediately nodded, wiping the tears from my face.

However, he still didn't move from his place. Thinking of anything to make him move, I took a leap of faith to see how he would response if made myself appear to be afraid once again.

"Edward, I'm scared. Take me away from here, from the sight of him, please."

I didn't know why it worked, but hearing me say those words slightly diminished the look of murder in his eyes. Slowly, he stepped from Jacob's unmoving body and grasped my hand to help me stand.

Without another word, he led me outside.

As if running for our lives, Edward briskly tugged me to his waiting car – a sleek looking, expensive one. He didn't even say a word, just strapped me into the passenger seat, and then walked quickly around the car to the driver's seat.

In just a few seconds, we were already hitting the road.

With both of us in the car, the feeling was strangely déja vu with Rosalie, except Edward's driving was much faster.

In the dim light of the night, I could see his muscles straining as he clutched the steering wheel so hard I feel like it would snap between his hands. His face was still etched in fury.

He looked as though he would kill someone.

But oddly enough, I've never felt safer in my life than I did with him at this moment. The irony is not lost on me though.

"Are you okay?" I asked in a soft voice.

Of course, it was a stupid question that he didn't even try to answer.

"Thank you for saving me," I tried again to elicit a response from him.

He briefly looked at me, and I saw that I somehow was able to get through to him.

Gazing ahead, he said in a rough, yet hardly controlled voice, "I should have killed him."

"No, you shouldn't have."

He hit the steering wheel with his right fist and I surmised it was his way to release some of his rage.

"He fucking tried to rape you, Bella! I should have fucking killed the motherfucking bastard!"

"You did enough, Edward, you saved me. That's what matters." My voice was barely a whisper as I tried to calm him down.

"I could turn back now and still find the fucking asshole and kill him."

"If you do that, you'd leave me alone and scared. And I don't want to be alone," I said, hoping again that those words would work on him. And once more, for some mystifying reason, it did. He calmed down marginally.

"You need to distract me, please, so I won't turn around and put a bullet in his head."

Hearing the seriousness in his voice, I scrambled within my head to find something trivial to say to him, and all I could come up with was "Rosalie is gorgeous."

He was quiet so I started blubbering.

"When she kidnapped me, I thought the girl was crazy. Moreover, she was beautiful and just looking at her makes you feel like you're looking at an angel. And she ranted and used profanities towards you, and then suddenly laughed and got serious and… she kissed me, by the way, which was the first kiss I've ever had… "

"She kissed you?" He asked in an obvious change of tone – he seemed calmer this time.

"Yes."

"And it was your first?"

"Yes."

I saw his jaw set, as though he would have laughed at what I had said if he wasn't too mad.

"And Jessica, my co-worker, is secretly dating Mike Newton, my boss. And it was odd for me because I know that they are dating so why do they even try to keep it secret when it was obvious? Well, I guess it's not obvious to everybody but it was obvious to me.

And Alice is like a doll. The kind of doll you want to be best friends with; the kind I had as a child. But I had a limited time talking to her so it was a shame. She looked like the kind of person you want to be best friends with…"

For a solid thirty minutes, that's all I did.

I talked.

And Edward just listened, and little by little, his rage diminished.

We came to a stop at a private residence that looked more like a mansion than a house. I think we were still in Manhattan, but I couldn't be sure. I had never been to this area before. It was a quiet place for New York, and all the houses looked as though they belonged to important, wealthy people.

"Where are we?"

"My place," he answered, removing his seatbelt. He then got out of the car to open my door.

He pressed some buttons to open the gate, and when it did, he went back to his car to drive into the garage as I waited at the front door.

As he closed his gate, I marveled at the grandeur of his house.

It was big, and symmetrical, and made mostly of glass, with white as the predominant color.

It looked elegant.

It looked lonely.

Edward opened the front door with yet another code, and then gestured for me to come inside.

Once we were in, he clicked on the lights, and I was greeted with more elegance, sophistication, grandiose, and solitude.

His house reflected him: beautiful and melancholic.

"You can use one of the rooms upstairs."

I nodded, and followed him to the second floor.

Again, the color of white was dominant, and his furniture consisted of mostly black leather. He led me to the right-most wing of the floor, and opened the door.

"You can stay here."

I nodded again as I scanned the room.

It was designed in pastel colors, and it was very spacious. I could probably fit my entire apartment in just this one room.

I sat on the cream-colored bedspread, as Edward closed the door and came to sit at the nearby couch.

I could feel that his eyes were on me.

"You're very quiet. You haven't said much since we arrived."

I looked at him and I could see the curiosity in his voice was reflected ten times in his eyes.

"You have a very beautiful home…" I started, however I couldn't lie to him – not to him. "It just looks so lonely and abandoned. It really doesn't look like a home."

He nodded, slightly smiling the crooked smile. A look of sadness replaced his curiosity.

"I guess I'm not surprised that's your first observation. You're incredibly observant and can pierce through the truth so easily. Most people would just remark that the house is ostentatious, but you could aptly describe it in just a few words, in just a few minutes."

Edward sighed as he leaned his arms on his thighs.

"Why did you bring me here?"

The shadow of his former rage came back to his face.

"You know why."

"No. I mean, I'm curious why, of all the places, you brought me here. You could have just taken me to a hotel, or somewhere else. Why here? I just feel as though you don't usually bring strangers here."

He chuckled darkly.

"It is the safest place I could think of. Very few people know I live here. I guess it is kind of dangerous in a way, with no one knowing you're here."

I felt that there was a warning there somewhere, but I couldn't find it in me to feel afraid of him, not after what he did for me.

My next words surprised him.

"It is a safe place. Thank you for bringing me here."

He looked directly into my eyes, and again, surprise, curiosity and a little softness were all visible. However, he tried to deflect the conversation.

"Are you hungry?" He asked instead.

I smiled, as I shook my head no. "I just want to take a bath, if you don't mind. I feel… uncomfortable in my skin… after…" I trailed off, the events that had happened earlier flashed back to my mind.

I gripped the bed's mattress.

Edward seemed to sense my discomfort and tried to speak casually instead.

"This room has a private bath, but I don't know about your clothes…"

"Oh, uhm, can I borrow a shirt?"

He hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. "I'll just get something from my room."

I nodded and blushed as he stood to leave.

I was used to hand-me-down clothes from the orphanage, so sharing clothes wasn't new to me, but not a full-grown man's clothes. Somehow, it felt a little too intimate. However, it was that, or wearing my clothes again, and I didn't think I was ready for that, yet. Because of Jacob, I feel that those clothes were now tainted.

When Edward returned, he placed his neatly piled clothes at the top of the bed.

"I'll just leave you alone then. I have to shower as well."

"Thanks."

He nodded and turned to leave. But right when he was at the door, I spoke again, making him halt his steps to turn and look back at me.

"Come back in half an hour. We have to talk," I said looking him straight in the eyes. I could see that he knew what I wanted to talk about, and it wasn't about what had just happened. He nodded and shut the door.

Taking a bath proved a very liberating experience after the horrific events of the night. I felt as if I had washed off the grime and saliva that tainted my skin from Jacob.

I scrubbed every surface of my body and used the shampoo and conditioner a little bit more than usual. I briefly wondered why Edward had female smelling shampoo and soap, but then I realized that maybe I wasn't the first female to be here. It made me wonder if Rosalie or Alice, or someone else brought these. Somehow, the last thought made me feel vexed.

When I came out wrapped in a towel, I inspected the clothes Edward had left for me. There was a button-down shirt – the kind he was wearing – and black boy shorts. He very thoughtfully also placed boxer shorts and a sleeveless undershirt. I wore them all, blushing again at using the undergarments. I unrolled the towel to let my hair fall loose. I look decent, but I felt slightly uncomfortable not wearing a bra. Putting my hair down over me helps a little with my nerves.

Edward's boy shorts were too big, but luckily, I was able to tie them at the front to fit my thin waist. As for his button-down shirt, I reckon I could do nothing about its length, but I could roll up the sleeves.

When I looked in the bathroom mirror, I was surprised to see the girl reflected back at me. She didn't look like a lonely, naïve girl, or even the girl who had almost been raped by someone. Instead, she looked very much alive, with rosy cheeks and white complexion. And she even looked somewhat 'boyishly feminine' in the clothes she was wearing.

I never thought I would ever look as such. I never thought I'd use the words 'boyishly feminine' for myself. I didn't look like a training nun anymore. And quite frankly, I didn't feel like one anymore.

Edward came back almost exactly thirty minutes after he had left. By then I was trying to dry my wet hair with the towel.

He knocked at the door and I told him to come in. When he did, he stopped in his tracks and his eyes grew infinitesimally wider as he spotted me drying my hair.

I saw him swallow, and then he cleared his throat.

_I wondered what that reaction was._

He came to sit at his previous place on the couch, where I could clearly see the changes in his appearance.

His hair was wet and unruly, and he was wearing a fitted-black shirt and jeans. Seeing him wear something so casual and yet manages to look better than the movie star I have recently glimpsed in some movie trailer while passing the mall makes me wonder if he would ever look bad in anything.

It seems like the answer would be never.

For a guy, he smells incredibly good, too – I could detect soap and shampoo from his recent shower, but there was also mint, and a unique manly smell that I could only associate with him...

"I'm still waiting for it," he suddenly said, making me snap out of my stupor.

"W-waiting for what?"

"For you to go into shock. You are weirdly calm for someone who had recently been assaulted."

"I feel oddly safe around you."

His eyes once again showed the softness that I was growing to love.

He sighed.

"So, we need to talk."

I nodded. "Yes, we need to talk."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** To Fran and her editing skills, you're always great. Thank you for this and for putting up with my compulsiveness.

And as I've promised before that I would post a chapter as soon as I could, I've posted two chapters today (this and chapter 9). I hope I made you at least smile.

Thank you all for your time!


	11. Chapter 11: Living in a Dream

**The Revelations of an Innocent Mind**

**CHAPTER 11: LIVING IN A DREAM**

"Yes. We can't just always try to spy on each other. We need to talk," I said in a slightly teasing tone, hoping to lighten up the mood before we begin.

Edward nodded in understanding and gestured for me to start with the questions.

"First and foremost, what were you doing in my apartment before knocking out Jacob with your punches?"

It seemed like the earlier event was still not a joking matter to him, as Edward's face turned serious from what I had said.

"I spoke with Alice before I came to your place – in truth, it was the reason that I came to your place."

I expected as much.

"Has she… told you?"

"She did, actually. And she was somehow very jubilant whilst she was telling me," he said with a slight curve of his mouth. At least this he found funny.

"So you know that I know."

"Yes."

"About… your occupation," I said, hesitating.

He chuckled sardonically.

"I won't necessarily call killing people and earning millions from it an occupation."

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"And you're the one responsible for the auction."

He looked at me as if trying to gage my reactions as he said "Yes."

"But you don't kill civilians."

Still sardonically smiling, he rhetorically asked, "And that justifies what I do?"

"You must have a reason for doing it. I know you're good, Edward, and I know you're anguished."

He looked at me very cynically.

"That's bullshit and you know it. I'm not good, Bella. How many times do I have to tell you that? I kill people for a living. You should know first-hand that I'm breaking an important cardinal law of your religion; you are a devote Catholic. Socially, morally, and even fucking spiritually, I am trash."

I shook my head vehemently.

"I don't believe that. Just a second ago, you were trying to save me. If you aren't a good person as you say, then you wouldn't do that – help me like that. You would have just let me be raped."

Somehow, the word I used brought a dangerous look to his face, making him scornful and seethe with rage when he spat his next words.

"And that's the reason why you told Alice you wouldn't see me again? Because you believe, I'm 'good'? Yes, that's fucking believable Bella."

I wanted to cry, but I controlled my emotions lest he thinks I am weak.

"I don't just _believe_you are a good man, I _know_ you are. I can see it in the softness of your eyes. I can see it in the way you look at me. And yes, I told Alice I never wanted to see you again. But do you know why I said that? Because I thought we lived in two different worlds that should never cross. But every day – every single day – I wake up and the first thought I have is of you. I dream of you, Edward, almost every night. I feel empty that I can never see you again. It's very infuriating – I've never dealt with these feelings before. And they're very confusing. I don't know what to make of them.

I get angry, I snap at people, and all because I long to see you. I miss you. And it is very, _very_ stupid of me to do so.

I pray for you every single day.

I pray that you will be saved.

You never leave my thoughts.

Now tell me, do I sound like I truly meant what I said to Alice? Do I sound like I don't want to see you anymore?"

He was speechless after that. And even though I vowed not to cry, somehow, letting my emotions out like that made my eyes tear up. I hastily wiped my tears as my sobbing gets a little out of control.

We were like that for a few while – him speechless and me sobbing – until Edward finally spoke.

"This is wrong. I never meant for it to be like this," he said in a whispery voice and shocked eyes.

"What is? T-that I c-care for you?" My crying made it hard for me to speak.

"That I have this strong an effect to you. You shouldn't feel like this towards me."

I wiped my eyes from all my tears.

"Well, I do. And you can't do anything about it. And I just can't order my feelings to go away. I care about you. And I don't expect for you to care for me as well – just let me feel that way towards you."

He lifted his hand as though he was going to wipe my tears away, but halfway through he made a fist and put down his hand instead.

"I don't deserve this, Bella. I don't deserve your kindness."

"Everybody deserves kindness. Everybody deserves someone who will care for them. Everybody deserves a second chance; a shot at a better life."

We were quiet for a few moments, absorbing what was happening between us.

Suddenly, he said "It's late. You should go to sleep."

With that, Edward rose to leave.

However, I didn't know what came to me, but I suddenly grabbed the edge of his shirt, making him halt his steps and turn around to face me.

"Don't leave me – please," I said in a pathetic, beseeching voice I've never used before.

We stared at each other for what seemed like a lifetime, and I knew how my eyes were pleading for him to stay.

Finally, with a sigh, he nodded.

I removed my clutching of his shirt and scooted at the right side of the bed for him to occupy the left. He hesitated at first, but with my nod, he eventually sat beside me.

Together, we lay side by side. I pulled the mattress on top of us and we lay there like that for a minute, neither of us speaking.

For others, it probably would look like an inappropriate thing to do. I am a novice nun, and he is a murderer. And I wasn't so naïve as not to know that a full-grown man and woman do not share a bed like this without expecting something to happen. But somehow, it felt right to me. Normal. As though we were meant to lie together like this. And he never initiated anything, making me more comfortable to be with him.

I could feel the beating of his heart, and maybe it was my wistful thinking but somehow, I feel as though it was in sync with mine.

I should have felt nervous or awkward, but I didn't – I just feel comfortable with him around.

Too soon, I was already yawning.

"You should sleep," he said and turned to face my side.

I turned too, making our faces only inches apart. It was a heady feeling – to be this close to someone as beautiful as him.

"I wanted to talk more."

His usually guarded features softened, and he made a small smile.

"I've never met someone as stubborn as you. Even you try to fight your sleep."

I smiled a full smile.

"I've never been stubborn before. I was always very obedient. I guess people just change."

Suddenly, hesitantly, he touched the stray lock of my hair to place it beneath my ear.

It felt nice when he did that.

"Tell me more about yourself, about your childhood," he asked. I smiled again.

"I was raised in an orphanage. I never knew who my parents were. Some say they died when I was very young. Some say they abandoned me. I truly didn't know who to believe.

I grew up in the streets, asking for alms, and sometimes, I would take things like a crook. I never really took something valuable – I just mostly take food. I remember that I was always hungry, and that I resent all the people around me because they just don't care. But I did take one valuable thing; I once took this doll from a shop. It has these beautiful, long lashes and the realest of eyes I've ever seen from a doll. I don't remember much from those days, just the hunger, and resentment, and the sometimes thieving, but I do remember that doll very well. I was always so envious of the other girls when I see them pass by with their parents and all their beautiful toys that I wanted to have. And this doll was the one for me."

"What happened when you took it?"

I smiled more as I recapitulate this particular story.

"Well, I was able to run a few meters before the store owner, and his staff, got a hold of me. I probably should add that I looked like a boy at that time – dressed in pants and shirts and all the holes and grime you can find, and my hair was very short because I always had lice so I would cut my hair – and when they seized me, they beat me up."

A look of sympathy crossed Edward's features.

"I'm sorry," he said. I smiled wider.

"Don't be. It was fundamental to how I grew up.

So, they beat me up, and because I tried to fight back, the doll that I was holding got mixed in the fray. Next thing I knew, her head was already decapitated, and her limbs were broken.

I at least got her after that."

The look of sadness still didn't leave Edward's face though.

"Do you still have her?"

"Oh, no. I gave her to my best friend when I got to the orphanage."

At least, at this part, he finally smiled.

"How did you get to the orphanage?" he says as he absentmindedly strokes my hair. It felt good when he does this.

"I was five when I got there. Mother Emilia, our Mother Superior, saw me lurking in the streets. She has told me when I grew up that at that time, my eyes looked like I would eat her alive from my hunger, so she had no other choice but to take me with her. I don't remember much, actually, but I just remember that when she offered her hand to me that day, with the piece of bread she was holding, I felt like I was saved – like an angel was sent to help me. She became a mother to me at the orphanage."

"How did you meet your best friend there?"

I laughed at this, remembering how just before I left Forks, I have told this very story to one of the girls there who was scared of meeting other people.

"It was funny, actually."

"Well, tell me."

"So, when I came to the orphanage, my initial inclination was to hate everybody else, and feel afraid of them at the same time. And I repeat – I don't remember much from my time at the streets – but I do remember that I carried that hatred with me when I moved to Forks, Washington.

I wasn't talking to anybody – I didn't see the use of talking to anyone. It went like that for a week.

And then one night, while I was trying to sneak out to the kitchen – and I don't exactly know why I was going there, maybe I was hoping to steal food? – I knocked out this lamp to one of the blanket there. Panicking, I went back to my bed in a hurry, pretending to sleep. So the fire got huge, and I almost burned the room, and I was pretending to sleep. The nuns and elders awoke from their sleep to put out the fire.

The next day, they all asked us to come inside the church. There, they relayed the story of what happened that night, and asked for the perpetrator to come forward.

I was so guilty I was sweating heavily. I was very afraid to tell them it was me, fearing they would send me out to the streets again if they learned what I did.

So when they were planning to punish us all, suddenly, this girl – Angela Webber – who was a few years older than me told the elders it was she who did it because she wanted to sneak out to the grounds to play by herself.

She got punished because of that – she was not allowed to go out our quarter for three days.

The next day, I confronted her and confessed it was me who actually did it. To my surprise, she told me that she knew it was me. So I asked why she did it. And then she told me, in her exact words, 'Now you talk. If I didn't do it I'm afraid your saliva will rot by not talking to anyone.' And starting from that day, she became my best friend."

By the end of my story, Edward was showing me a huge smile. It momentarily dazzled me for he looked so carefree, so handsome when he smiles that way.

"That was a great story."

"It sure is."

Right at that time, I yawned loudly, and finally felt tired from the roller coaster of emotions and events that happened to me that day.

"You should sleep," he said.

I nodded a little groggily.

"Yes, I will. I think I'm tired now."

I closed my eyes as my breathing evened out. It only took me a few moments to start my dreaming process – I was that comfortable around him.

Right when I was about to dream though, I heard Edward speak.

He said "Thank you, Bella, for giving me a shred of hope."

* * *

><p>I expected to wake up with a smile on my face the next morning. However, that was not how I found myself on the first day of my stay at Edward's place.<p>

When my eyes fluttered open, the first thing I saw was my tangled body with Edward. Somehow, I ended up tucked on the crook of Edward's arms as I hugged his chest. It felt good – even blissful – to be with him like this. And certainly should have made me smile.

But I didn't smile. Because as I remember my dream that night, I knew there was something missing between us, and I so badly wanted it to happen that it left me craving and empty.

I dreamt that I was kissing Edward.

It was a really, _really_ good dream.

We were here, at this very bed, and it was yesterday night. And in my dream, right when I was about to sleep, he kissed my lips.

That felt so good that I started kissing him back. And I started hugging him, as he got closer to me. And I started twining my hands on his hair as he roamed his hand on my waist.

And I didn't feel sinful. I didn't feel like how I felt with Jacob at all. I felt complete, like I should be doing that with him. Like I should be kissing him.

And so, it left me with sadness that it ever has to end and that I would wake up.

As Edward sleeps peacefully beside me, I got a little erect to see his face. He looked so peaceful sleeping – all the anguish, rage, self-doubt, cynicism from yesterday were gone. And he sleeps so peacefully it was as though I was watching an angel in bed.

I inspected his face more, getting curious how his every feature would look like up close.

I lingered at his mouth.

He didn't have the chapped lips like the other guys, nor the wet, disgusting one from Jacob. His lips look soft and thin. And beautiful, like the rest of him. And his jaw looked so pronounce, making his mouth that more beautiful…

Slowly, carefully, I lifted my right hand to touch his lips, and Edward opened his eyes.

"Oh!" I exclaimed as I was startled to have been caught inspecting him.

I scrambled away from him, and in my scurry, I hit the edge of the bed and I fell to the floor.

I landed with a loud "oomph", hitting my butt.

"Ow!" I shouted in pain.

When I looked up, Edward was staring at me in surprise, seated at the bed, and biting his lips. Embarrassed, I felt my face heat up, and I was sure I was blushing a furious red.

"Oh my, this is embarrassing," I said in terror, hiding my face in the process.

Why can't I just die right now?

Then suddenly, I heard him chuckle. Not wanting to miss his reaction, I removed my hands from my face. When I looked up, Edward's chuckles turned to full-fledged laughing.

Even though he was laughing _at _me, I couldn't find it in me to get mad. He just looked so carefree – gone are the seriousness that emanated from him yesterday night. It was heart-warming to see him so happy.

When his laughter was about to die down, I rose from the floor, pretending to sound mad at his reaction.

"Go ahead. Laugh at me as long as you want. I'll be making some very delicious breakfast and you will miss out on it because you were laughing at me."

"I'm sorry Bella," he said between his laughs. "I just didn't expect to be entertained this early in the morning. You should have seen your face – it was priceless."

I crossed my arms in an irritated gesture.

"Well, if you would prefer to continue laughing there, I am sorry but I will lock you in this room as I devour all the food from your kitchen."

He stopped laughing but still had the smile on his face as he said "All right, I'm rising up. It was just very amusing – exhibit A."

I tried to stay mad but it just didn't work. A few chuckles did escape me. He was just so fun to look at.

"And you have a nice hair," he says as he passed by me, tugging my said hair in the process. Alarmed, I ran towards the bathroom to immediately look for a mirror. Once there, I finally saw what he meant. My hair looked like a combination of a bird's nest and a haystack.

"Urggh!" I groaned in frustration, dreading how he has seen me in such a state. I heard him chuckle again from the room.

But it confuses me, this suddenly feeling of vanity. When have I ever cared about what I looked like to someone else? Why do I have this feeling of wanting to always look my best in front of him? It made me wonder what I am truly experiencing around him.

Once I was decent and my hair was tied in a messy but primmer bun on my head, and have washed my face and rinsed my mouth, I got down to the kitchen to find Edward already finished preparing our breakfast. He managed to scramble two eggs, cook strips of bacons, prepare two loaves of sandwiches, and was pouring milk to one of the two glasses – one was already full – in the short time that I was gone.

"Wow, you work so fast," I announced as I approached him.

He looked up to me as he set his milk carton on the table.

"Being fast is second nature to me."

What he said both reminded us of his true work. It made us quiet for a moment, and reminded us of the real life outside his house.

I cleared my throat to dispel the awkwardness.

"I told you I would cook for us. And you beat me to it."

"You could cook tomorrow."

Confused, I looked at him as I said "Tomorrow? I can't be here tomorrow, Edward. I will be at my apartment."

Anger immediately crossed his features with what I've said.

"You can't go back there," he said, gritting his teeth. It made me irked a little.

"Yes, I can. I live there. In case you forgot, I have an apartment there Edward."

What was that word he called me again? Right. Stubborn.

"What if the fucking dog comes back? What if he tries to make amends to you, and because you're forgiving, you will give him another chance? Bella, that asshole is an obnoxious, crazy piece-of-shit. He will do that to you again. I know the likes of him, Bella, he's used to getting what he wants. He won't stop until he gets a hold of you."

And again, Edward was spot on, astonishing me at how accurate he is at reading people. Maybe it comes with what he does.

"I will forgive him, Edward, eventually, in the same manner that I try to overlook what you do to get money."

I knew I hit a mark at him – he looked a little hurt. But again, I do not want to lie to him.

"But not right now," I continued. "It's too fresh. And I want you to know that I will forgive him. But Edward, Jacob has already broken his trust on me. I can't keep him as a friend anymore. Please, at least trust me on this – I will not let Jacob touch me nor speak to me the way he did, ever again."

He seemed to understand me, but it was not enough for him. He shook his head as he pushes his point.

"I trust you, Bella. But I don't trust that dog. And you're already associated with me, however hard we try to stay away from each other. I can protect you better when you're near me. Not just from Jacob, but from everyone else."

He seemed so adamant about it. He didn't even raise his voice when he said those words – he merely tried to speak softly to make me realize what he meant, and through his eyes, I can see that he was pleading.

I sighed.

"I will pay you rent."

He shook his head. "I earn millions and I never spend them. Let me take care of everything."

"No. I wouldn't feel well knowing where the money you will use for me comes from. Let me pay you."

Again, what I said brought a hurt in his eyes. And it in turn broke my heart seeing that I hurt him, no matter how small it was.

I walked nearer to him to hold his hands.

"I'm sorry, but it's the truth. I accept your offer for me to stay here, but please, let me pay my rent. If it would put your mind ease, I will pay you only the amount I pay at my old apartment, which to be honest is not enough to cover as rent for your beautiful house."

He nodded, finally agreeing.

"Alright. We'll take all your belongings later after your shift."

And of course, it wasn't only Jacob who knows everything about me. It didn't surprise me to learn that Edward knows my schedule as well. But for some reason, it didn't make me mad like how I felt with Jacob.

"Okay."

"And I will drive you to and from work."

"What?"

"Please, Bella. It would put another of that ease of mind to me."

"But your gas is expensive."

"And I have a lot of money that I don't spend."

I sighed, relenting again.

"You did spend some of them – you bid me for a million just for a dance, remember? And this house and your car must have cost a fortune."

"Bidding for you was the only time I used my money. This house and my car were given to me."

Given to him? By whom? His boss? Does he answer to someone?

"Alright," I said, trying to ignore my curiosity, "let's eat, silent millionaire."

He smiled, and we proceeded to take our seats so we could dine for our breakfast together.

I didn't exactly know what the relationship I have with Edward is – it didn't feel like we were simply friends. But I tried not to dwell on it. Whatever we have was good for now, and I don't want to think of what could happen tomorrow.

At least for a day, I am simply Bella and he is just Edward, and not a novice nun and a murderer. We were only two people enjoying the company of each other for breakfast.

For the first time since I got to New York, or probably even my life, I felt utterly and completely happy. And for now, that's what matters most.


	12. Chapter 12: Realizations and New Friends

**A/N:** Sorry. This is not an update. But, I just want to say that there's an outtake for Chapter 11. Visit my profile if you want to read it. It's in EPOV. Thanks!

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><p><strong>The Revelations of an Innocent Mind<strong>

**CHAPTER 12: REALIZATIONS AND NEW FRIENDS**

"When a guy comes at you, the first thing you do is you kick him in his groin. No matter how big or strong the person is he would find it hard to fight back if you hit him in that spot. After that, gouge him through his eyes with your fingers. Then run."

"What if he comes at me from behind?"

"Let him hug at you at first then cross your arms like this," he shows me how to cross my arms in front of my chest. "Then when you find a chance, slip below him and then kick him in his groin."

"So it's all about the groin region."

"Yes. That's the spot where men are the weakest."

"All right," I nodded and breathed.

We were outside my workplace, and because of Edward's maniac driving, I am almost an hour early for work. Since we have an extra hour, we decided to stay in his car while he teaches me how to defend myself in case I'm ever assaulted again

"The key element is surprise. Surprise plus calm. You should always remain calm."

"Surprise plus calm. Got it."

He looks through his window at my workplace then returns his gaze at me.

"I still think I should come and stay with you in there. I have a feeling the dog will come back."

I shook my head.

"That's unnecessary. I can handle this. Starbucks is a public place – I don't think he will do anything to harm me in front of all the people.

Besides, I think you wouldn't be able to control yourself if you saw him. You're angrier towards him than I am."

He huffed.

"Fine. But I will fetch you after your shift."

"Yes sir," I made a show of salute mocking him.

He didn't seem amused.

"Oh, come on, lighten up. It's too early in the morning for you to be so grumpy."

His lips twitched on the edges, and I knew he was trying to fight a smile.

I chuckled.

"You know," he started, looking at me amusedly, "you've changed a lot since I met you. You were so serious at first and naïve. And also so quiet. But now I feel like you've grown or something."

My smile grew.

"Well, I could say the same to you. You were never talkative that first week, only serious, and quiet. And now you're laughing and talking…"

Just then, his phone rang and he picked it up. He looked at me apologetically and I smiled to show him that I understand. He turned his head as he answered.

"Hello?"

While Edward was on the phone, I let my eyes scan what he was wearing.

He wore his usual blue, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and some dark, fitted jeans, and leather shoes. And for some reason, he chose to wear a cap. While I, on the other hand, had to wear my shirt, jeans and boots that I wore the day before, as Edward had no clothes that could actually fit me.

He hung up with a smile.

"That was Emmett, Rosalie's boyfriend, and my friend, too."

"Oh," I uttered, surprised that he's relaying this to me.

"They were planning to drop by the house later for dinner, along with Alice. And according to him, the girls were dying to meet you again. Are you okay with that?"

I smiled, finding the idea appealing. "That would be great. I'd love to cook for them."

"You don't have to, but they'd love that."

A moment passed with neither of us speaking.

"So, I should go …" I hesitated, not really feeling like going. Being with Edward makes me want to attach myself to him, or if I could, glue myself to him. And it makes me want to prolong every moment we share.

He nodded. "Yes."

"Thank you for the ride."

"You're welcome. This is nothing compared to you saving my life."

"Well, you also saved my life yesterday, so I guess we're even."

He smiled and I exhaled.

"All right, I really should be going," I said, unstrapping my seatbelt.

Edward got out on his side, and the next thing I knew, he was already opening the door for me.

"Oh my, you're really fast."

I hopped out and he closed the door behind me.

"See you later," I said. He nodded.

There was a moment – that one second – where I felt as if we should be doing something. I don't know what it was, but our eyes met, and I had a yearning to do something with him. He seemed to sense this as well as he had a hard time breathing, like me.

He looked down at my lips, and that's when it clicked for me.

This feeling and yearning.

I wanted to kiss him.

But am I allowed to do that?

"Bye," I breathed, looking at his lips as well.

He swallowed.

"Bye," he said in the same breathy tone.

I inhaled loudly, and then I took a step back from him, finally putting a stop to the hypnotic spell we were under.

I briefly smiled, still out of breath, and he returned my smile with the same hard breathing, before I turned around to walk inside the café.

I was able to glance at him through the glass windows as he made a reverse on his car and finally left.

"Who was that cutie?"

I jumped upon Jessica's question.

"Jeez, you startled me."

Jessica chuckled. "I wonder why you're always surrounded by hotties. Care to share a little secret how to land one?"

"Jessica, you already have Mike." She gestured for me to be quiet. I smiled. "And E-Anthony is just a friend."

"Yeah, right, that guy totally has the hots for you, and you say he's 'just' a friend."

I walked towards our locker as Jessica followed me.

"Well, he's not a typical friend, but I don't know what he is to me."

"Oh, right, that stage. The confusing stage before one of you will find the balls to finally ask the other out."

"Jessica!" I reprimanded in a hushed-shouting tone, scandalized by the words she used.

"What? It's true. That guy wouldn't drive you to work like that, and you wouldn't let yourself be driven by him if you don't have the hots for each other. And I saw that lingering staring contest between you two before you got here – don't deny that there was something there my friend. And come on, that guy is sex on legs! I love Mike and all, but I would totally do that Anthony guy if I have a chance."

I winced at her choice of words.

"Anthony is… different. And he doesn't like me like that. He shouldn't. He lives in a different world," I said as I took out my apron from my locker and tied it around my waist.

"What, he's an alien or something?"

I didn't respond so she continued speaking.

"Let me guess: he's really rich like your Jacob, but unlike your Jacob, you find Anthony attractive. However, you don't _want_ to know what to do because here he is, this really rich, hot guy, and you are just this worker at some coffee shop."

I sighed, suddenly feeling tired.

"I hope it's that easy. I really hope I'm just insecure because he's rich, and good-looking. But it's more than that."

Jessica doesn't know that I am a novice nun and that _Anthony_ is actually a hired killer. She doesn't know that I shouldn't fall for anyone at all, more so someone like him.

And _if_ she knew, I'm sure she would agree that I really didn't see this every happening when I came to New York … and she'd probably run for the hills.

"It's always more than that, Bella. Love is complicated. Look at me: I'm in love with my boss. And it made me insecure, and immature, and to feel totally stupid. But remember what you told me before? About how I should tell Mike what I feel? How I would not be able to take it if he dates someone else? Maybe you should take your own advice."

When Jessica phrased it like that, it seems that the gap between Edward and me isn't really that wide or diverse. Maybe I could cross the line that divides us if I could only find the strength to do so.

I hope it was that easy.

Suddenly, one of the words she had said struck me.

"'Love'? You think I love him?"

Confused at my reaction, she asked, "Don't you?"

_Do I?_

_Is that what I was feeling? _

_Am I in love with Edward_?

_Am I in love with a Murderer?_

It took me a few moments of silence as I contemplated what Jessica has just said, but I couldn't come up with a definitive answer.

Isn't love supposed to be easy?

Sweet?

Romantic?

Isn't it supposed to move mountains?

Isn't it supposed to be pure, and brave, and selfless, and forgiving?

But this feeling I have – it's contrary to all those things.

What I feel for Edward complicates everything between us.

It isn't easy, as we are both on extreme opposite sides of the spectrum.

And it's confusing.

It could not move mountains:

I couldn't even begin to think how I would help him, nor how I would try to stop him from doing what he's doing.

It isn't sweet, or romantic.

More so I feel intoxicated by him; as though I want to spend all my days with him. And though what we had this morning and last night was brief, like the calm before the storm, I know we will wake up from our dream and reality will come knocking. And then, we will realize that I have my obligations, and these all contradict what he does.

And if love is supposed to be pure, why do I have a yearning for him; as though it would feel great to put my lips on his, and wrap my arms, body, and my all around him?

This is…

This is desire; one of the instigations of sins my religion cautions us all. They say it would drive us to commit sinful acts.

If love is pure, why do I desire Edward?

Love is brave.

Love is selfless.

Love is forgiving.

But in the one day that I've spent with him, I've been my weakest, most scared, most pathetic, and most needy self. I've asked him to stay with me, and demanded that he not leave me. How is that selfless? How is that brave? And I couldn't find it in me to be forgiving – no, not with Jacob. Not yet. Isn't love supposed to purify this anger I have towards Jacob allowing me to forgive him right away?

If all the teachings I know about love contradict all that I feel towards Edward, then how can it be love?

"Bella, are you alright?"

I awaken from my stupor to see Jessica shaking my shoulders a little.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"Are you sure? I feel like I kinda lost you there for a moment."

"I'm okay, thanks," I said, still floored by my realization.

"All right, let's go to the counter then," she says still looking confused.

I nodded and walked with her towards our station.

_Am I in love with Edward?_

Jacob didn't show up or try to call me the whole day, and for that, I was grateful. I hadn't even decided yet how I would react if I would see him again. His absence allows me more time to delay my decision.

Edward was on time when he fetched me from work. We made a stop at the grocery store as I insisted on buying the food for our dinner. I was planning to barbecue with his friends and to try my cooking skills with some seafood. We also made a stop at my apartment for me to pack my belongings. I don't own many clothes so they all fit into the luggage I used when I got to New York. But before we came inside my room, the assault that had happened to me the night before was brought back to the forefront by the scattered grocery items that we passed in the hall. I asked Edward to give me a few minutes to clean the mess, and to salvage the items that I could still use.

He didn't understand why I just didn't throw all of it into the garbage. I explained to him how I grew up in an orphanage run by a convent of nuns. How we were used to donated goods and hand-me-down clothes. How I can't waste these blessings from God knowing how many kids would beg all day just to have them. That silenced him, allowing me to complete my task.

When we got back to his 'dwelling place', I headed straight to the kitchen and quickly arranged the ingredients we bought from the store and placed my salvaged items in his pantry.

I then remembered that I should have put my luggage in my room, but when I looked at the place I had left it, it was already gone and so was Edward. I assumed that he brought it upstairs and that made me smile.

Edward seemed to be more than relieved when our company arrived. I guessed it was because he felt useless and bored waiting in the living room for me to finish cooking. He did ask me twice if he could help with anything, and I pointed to the jars that I needed which have to be opened. As he settled to do his only task, I did hear him mumble "A man's only job in the kitchen. I scrambled eggs for breakfast, but no, ma'am, real cooking does not involve frying." It made me laugh, which earned me a glare from him. I tried to wash away the smile from my face, but I did giggle a few more times. After finishing his task, I shooed him away from the kitchen, and a few minutes later, heard the television's low audio.

Dinner with Emmett, Rosalie, and Alice was a fun event. At first, I felt awkward around them and a bit jittery to meet them, but that was immediately wiped out when they all gave me warm smiles and greetings.

The first to approach me was Alice, smiling hugely and hugging me tightly as she whispered, "I knew that we were gonna be great friends."

Next was Rosalie. I was a little unsettled when I faced her, but she quickly dispelled my anxieties when she laughed at me and hugged me loosely. She then said in a singsong voice, "I kissed a girl…" With my startled expression, she laughed again and said "Come on, I knew you liked it, too. And no worries – I'm not really into that..." She winked at me and I finally was able to release a few chuckles.

When I met Emmett, my immediate reaction was to cringe at his huge frame. He was very tall – as tall as Edward – and was muscled. Whereas Edward was lean and lanky, but still well built, he was very bulky and looked like a weightlifter.

However, as he smiled at me with amused eyes, a set of deep dimples graced his face, and I was finally able to feel calmer towards him.

"So, you're the one that got Edward's panties in a bunch?" he said and laughed loudly as Rosalie and Alice sniggered. Edward just glared at him. Upon seeing my clueless expression, he stopped laughing to give me a tight hug. It was warm, and it made me smile.

We settled at Edward's patio for the barbecue as I assembled the seafood I had cooked. Emmett had brought some beers, offering me first. But before I could refuse him, Edward beat me to it by telling him that I don't drink alcohol, which surprised both Emmett and me. Emmett because I don't drink, and me, because, well, I'm just surprised Edward knew that. But then again, I suspected as much when he didn't offer me any at the auction. And since I told him a little about my childhood, I guess it wouldn't take a genius to know I am not allowed to drink. But still, him knowing and remembering surprises me a little.

They all seemed to like the food that I offered, and all too soon, jokes and stories flowed freely amongst us. I mostly just listened – content at my place near the grill as Alice laughed quietly, from her lounge chair. Rosalie and Emmett sat in one recliner, and Edward, smiling, was seated in a chair against the wall. Emmett kept telling jokes and funny stories, and Rosalie would sometimes take part by telling equally hilarious tales with animated gestures and delivery. I could clearly see how they complemented each other.

As our laughter died down to yet another unrealistic tale of Rosalie, she glanced towards me and said with a smile "So, Bella, tell us a bit about yourself."

Their focus shifted towards me, waiting for me to answer.

I bit on my lip saying "well, what do you want to know?"

"How about from the beginning: your full name and where you grew up?"

I hesitated before answering: "I'm Isabella Marie Swan, but I prefer Bella. I am an orphan. At age five, I was brought to an orphanage in Forks, Washington, and left under the supervision of a congregation of nuns."

After I've said that, Emmett immediately burst into laughter which made us focus on him.

"Wow, dude, you're sleeping with a nun!" He teased, looking at Edward.

Nobody found it funny and I had butterflies in my stomach because of what he said. Because although he meant it as a joke, he didn't know how close it was to the truth.

"I'm not a nun." A novice nun though.

"But still," Emmett continued, "I didn't know Edward's tastes veer on the religious side. I thought he only calls God if he was getting laid."

"Emmett," cautioned Edward with a sharp glare. The two girls were silent. Emmett held up his hands as if to back away.

"Sorry, dude, I'm just surprised, is all. I mean, she's the first girl from the outside you allow in your life, and she's, I don't know, so different from us." He then looked at me to say, "No offense Bella, and I like you, I'm just surprised with Edward's choice."

I meekly smiled as a gesture that said I forgive him.

"She's just staying here, Emmett. I'm making her stay here to keep her safe and nothing more is going on."

He looked confused with what Edward had said.

"So, you two don't… do it?"

Edward shook his head, still glaring, and it was my turn to get confused.

Do what?

"Wow. Dude, just, wow."

His eyes grew wide in awe.

Rosalie spoke then.

"This must be a record; one night, you two alone here and nothing happened?"

"We did sleep together," I said, thoroughly confused. It made both Rosalie and Emmett laugh loudly and Alice smile.

"I knew it!" Emmett declared. Edward glared once again and Rosalie hit Emmett on the head.

"No you don't shithead. She said they did _sleep_ together, not _slept_ together. Like old people, sleeping in a room playing mahjong or some shit. Didn't you hear Bella say she grew up in a convent? And she doesn't even drink, for Christ's sake. She doesn't know what 'sleep together' means."

"Oh," Emmett mumbled then laughed louder.

"Wow, dude, you got yourself a virgin!"

"Emmett, stop it." Edward said. "Stop embarrassing Bella like that."

I was not embarrassed.

Not at all.

Because I didn't understand anything they said.

"Come here, little sister," Emmett suddenly said to me, but instead of me walking towards him, he came towards me and then hugged me tightly, making it hard for me to breathe.

"Can't… breathe…" I tried to say, and then he set me down with a chuckle.

"Welcome to the gang, Bella. You're cool, so you got in easily."

What just happened?

I looked at Alice smiling amusedly at us.

Then at Edward looking as though he wanted to bolt from the room. Lastly, Emmett with his set of dimples, and Rosalie drinking her beer with a smile.

And although I didn't understand what had happened, I felt as if I'd gained new, close friends – criminals, but with warm hearts.

All three decided to stay for the night, since it was late, and no one was sober enough to drive.

I was washing the plates when Alice approached me.

"Do you need help?" she asked me with a smile. I scooted a little to the left so she could stand next to me in front of the sink.

"How about you'll dry?"

"Sure."

She got a towel and we did the task in companionable silence.

"You must have been surprised to find that we're a bunch of normal people," she said without warning, breaking the silence.

"Yes, I'll admit I didn't expect you to be so friendly like that. Edward seems to be too serious, so I thought you all were."

"Oh, that's the serious Edward to you? If only you knew how he was before."

That piqued my interest.

"How was he before?"

"Definitely not like how he was earlier. I've never seen him so happy. I think today's the only time that I got to see him laugh."

"He's that serious, huh?"

"I think you bring out his true nature, giving him a chance to live and not merely exist. I saw how he watched you, Bella …"

I doubted that I was the reason for his apparent change in demeanor. But if so, that's surprisingly touching.

"Alice, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she answered immediately, looking intrigued.

"It's… kind of hard to ask."

She chuckled.

"Out with it, young lady, there's nothing too surprising for me to hear."

I chuckled before voicing my question.

"Edward doesn't kill innocent people, right?"

Understanding dawned on her eyes.

"Ah, I see. You wanted to understand how he came into this life."

I nodded, a bit embarrassed.

"Well, I can tell you for a fact that Edward, or Anthony, is not your typical assassin. He has his reasons for choosing to do this. And no, he doesn't kill innocents, but really, what does innocent truly entail? Say a corrupt official – that's innocent for most people. He lies, pretends he's doing the community well, cheats on his wife with a bunch of whores, got his position by buying votes, and is secretly stealing their money. But still, because no one can prove he is guilty, in the eyes of society he's a saint."

"What are you trying to say?"

"All I'm trying to say is all of us are guilty and sinful in some ways. And instead of saying Edward's not killing the innocents I'd like to say he's only targeting the guilty ones. But not for the reasons I've mentioned, no. I don't actually know his story but from what I've heard from Rosalie, he has a dark past that drives him to do what he does."

I expected as much. I knew Edward didn't just think of suddenly taking lives away only to earn money. It wasn't what I read from his eyes. And he even said so himself, that he barely touches the money he earns.

But what big enough reason is there to drive an anguished soul to take away other people's lives?

"Can't he try to stop?"

A sad smile graced Alice's lips.

"It's not that easy, Bella. I told you he wasn't living before – he merely existed. It would have been easier for him to take his own life if his past were so bleak. But why choose to live instead? I'm afraid the only driving force he had to continue existing is the reason that brought him to what he's currently doing. It's the only thing – his driving force – that keeps him going with life."

I sighed.

The more I understand Edward, the more it seemed harder for me to help him.

My thoughts made me suddenly take a second.

_I wanted to help him._

First my epiphany at work, with Jessica and now this …

"What about you guys?" I said instead, hoping to change the course of our conversation so that I would veer off facing my feelings for at least a few moments.

"What do you want to know?"

"Do you also do what he does?"

I can't imagine tiny Alice firing a shot at someone or the funny Rose, or even the goofy Emmett. They all seemed too normal to be criminals.

Alice chuckled before she answered me.

"Hell no, we can't stomach that. I work on paintings. I make duplicates of original works and we sell those for the same price as the original. Rosalie is into grand theft auto, while Emmett sometimes works as a sort of second in command for Edward. Edward sometimes asks Rose to show up with him, like at the auction, but he does the work by himself. Emmett only does the clean-up, making sure no traces were left. Edward only asks him when it is on a large scale. Emmett's primary work is selling guns."

When she put it that way, all they're doing seems to be harmless compared to what Edward does. It makes me more intrigued on why they stick with him knowing how gruesome his work is.

As if reading my thoughts, Alice suddenly said "Bella, I know you're thinking how we could allow him to do what he does. But I want to ask you this instead; why do you think we would? Clearly, it is so bizarre, so inhuman as opposed to what we do or normal people do. Nevertheless, we're not stupid. We believe in him enough to allow him to continue with his course. Please at least dwell on that."

When she explains it that way…

"Do you answer to anyone? A boss, perhaps?"

She sealed her lips to gesture she was not allowed to talk about that.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Don't be. I would also be very curious if I were in your shoes."

We then continue with what we're doing, relapsing to our companionable silence. However, right before we finished with the dishes, Alice said something that will sure to keep me awake at night.

"But Bella, seeing him with you, for the first time, we're hoping things will take a different turn. I hope you're the answer we've been looking for. And just like you, I hope he'll find a way to stop."

So a few things were made clearer for me today, in exchange for some of them becoming more conflicting:

I might have fallen for an anguished man who kills people for a living. A man who does this because of his sordid past. Someone I want to help, and who I might or might not be able to convince to stop what he's doing.

It was all so complicated.

So later that night, I turned to the only man I knew who could help show me the right course of action.

The only man who could tell me what the right thing to do would be.

I prayed to God.

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><p><strong>AN**: I had a blast with last chapter's reviews. Thank you. And thanks again to my wonderful and most patient beta, SunflowerFran.


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